Extraordinary
by Brownbug
Summary: He had vowed never to take on another companion... until a disastrous trip to Mars left him lonely and vulnerable and afraid. She was an ordinary girl living an ordinary life... until she met the most extraordinary man of all. Can the Doctor and Allie run far enough and fast enough to avoid the reality of his impending death? Ten/OC. Set just after 'The Planet of the Dead'.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, that privilege belongs to the BBC.**

**Summary: She was an ordinary girl, living an ordinary life. Until she met the most** **extraordinary man of all... Ten/OC, set just after 'The Planet of the Dead'.**

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**- Chapter One -**

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

The old grandfather clock had stood in the corner of her aunt's antique shop for as long as Allie Castiel could remember, methodically counting off the seconds, never too fast or too slow. Time was funny like that, she thought. It still kept on counting, whether you were aware of it or not. It didn't matter whether she was in the room to listen to the clock, or if she was anywhere else in the world, time would still keep on ticking and no amount of railing against it could stop it happening.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

The sound of the clock was almost comforting, almost lulling. She was sitting in her usual place, behind the high sales counter on a stool, her legs dangling like a child. Listening to the steady ticking, she laid her head down beside the old-fashioned cash register, feeling the granite counter-top cooling her heated cheek. Tears ran silently from her eyes and pooled unheeded on the smooth stone surface.

All at once, the bells over the door jangled wildly. Quickly wiping away her tears, Allie raised her head in a weary fashion, and ran her fingers through her short, blonde bob, annoyed at the interruption. In hindsight, she supposed she should have placed a "Closed" sign on the door, but she hadn't really been expecting any customers on such a wet, blustery morning. They usually got few enough when it was fine and sunny.

The newcomer was a tall, thin man with a shock of spiky, dark brown hair and long side-burns, dressed in a long tan-coloured coat, over a brown suit with blue pinstripes. On his feet were a pair of cream-coloured Converse trainers that looked like they had seen better days. He was staring down at some sort of device in his hand that was blinking on and off with a red light. Hovering on the threshold for a second, he thrust the small object deep into his coat pocket, before bouncing into the room. Allie could think of no other description. He didn't walk, he didn't stroll, he literally _bounced_, his face alight with enthusiasm.

"A little shop!" he exclaimed, glancing around, as if it was the last place he expected to find himself. "Brilliant! I love a little shop, don't you?"

A bit taken aback by his apparent delight, Allie wasn't quite sure what to say to this, so she settled for, "Hello, can I help you with something?"

"I hope so," he said. "I'm the Doctor. Are you the proprietor of this fine establishment?"

"No," she said automatically. But then she bit her lip and amended, "Well...actually...yes, I suppose I am."

He gave her a steady, penetrating look. Somewhere in the back of her head, Allie found herself thinking that she had never seen a warmer, more gorgeous, more intelligent pair of brown eyes. Her cheeks coloured a little as she hurriedly thrust the thought away.

"Well, which is it?" he asked, not unkindly. "Either you are or you aren't."

"It belonged to my aunt and I used to run it for her," she explained. "But she died last week. Nothing's been properly settled yet, but she left everything to me, so I guess that makes me the new proprietor."

"I see." A solemn, almost sad look descended over his face. "I'm sorry. About your aunt, I mean. It's never easy to lose people you care about."

His voice held a wealth of understanding, and Allie found herself immediately warming to him. She was usually pretty good at reading people and something in his expression told her that he was no stranger to loneliness. She couldn't help wondering if he had also lost someone recently. "No, it isn't," she agreed. "So...what was it you wanted?"

"I need to see your back room," he said briskly, his tone completely business-like now.

She blinked in astonishment. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your back room," he repeated, holding out a small leather wallet. "I'm from the Council. I'm inspecting all the back rooms in the area."

Allie frowned, staring at the credentials he was proferring. From what she could see, they all appeared to be in order. Doctor John Smith, licensed Council Inspector, from the Department of Health Services, Housing and Sanitation. However, he didn't look like any sort of inspector she had ever seen before.

"Why? What's going on?"

"Oh, you know what back rooms are like," he replied vaguely. "You never know what might be going on in a back room. All sorts of back-roomy...stuff. Could be quite dangerous, if it's not sorted out promptly. No need to worry though. That's what I'm here for. Through here, is it?"

Without waiting for permission, he slipped behind the counter and opened up the door leading into the back areas of the shop. There wasn't much in the room beyond. Just a small kitchenette with a sink and a microwave and a large table that was currently littered with several large cardboard boxes, containing the stock consignment which had been delivered the day before and which she hadn't yet had the heart to unpack. Two other doors led to an adjoining toilet and a storeroom respectively, while a third opened out on to a narrow back alley, which ran behind the strip of shops.

However, the unusual council inspector didn't bother even glancing towards the other exits. Instead, he appeared to be vitally interested in the boxes on the table. He hurried forward and, much to her alarm, drew the small blinking device out of his pocket again. The red light was flashing more frantically now, accompanied by a low, bleeping sound.

"Now, just a minute, Doctor Smith," she protested, following behind him and belatedly trying to assert herself. Everything seemed to be happening too quickly; it was like a whirlwind had suddenly blown into her quiet shop. "You haven't said..."

"Doctor," he interrupted.

"What?"

"It's just 'the Doctor', not Doctor Smith."

Trying to keep her exasperation under control, she said through gritted teeth, "Very well, then..._Doctor_...can you please tell me exactly what you're looking for?"

"Can't," he responded cheerfully, waving the bleeping device over one box after another. "I won't know until I find it. What's in these boxes?"

"I...I'm not exactly sure. It's a stock consignment from Africa. My aunt ordered it before she died," Allie said in bewilderment, wondering if he could possibly be suspecting her of illegal smuggling of artefacts. Was he scanning for some kind of hidden barcode? But the Council didn't deal with that sort of thing, did they? Wasn't that Customs and Excise? Nevertheless, just in case, she hurried to add, "It's all perfectly legal, I assure you. I have all the appropriate paperwork."

Even as she spoke, his hand passed over the largest box of all and the bleeping from his little device went absolutely crazy. "Whatever's in here, it came from further away than Africa," the Doctor said grimly. He slipped the device back into his pocket and gingerly began to open the flaps on the box.

"Further away than Africa?" she echoed. Surely he had to be joking. What could be further away than Africa? Australia? Antarctica?

Poking around in the mass of styrofoam packing peanuts, he gently began to pull out item after item, examining each one closely, and then discarding it on the table. There were several small, woven baskets; a carved wooden mask on a stick; a small, circular organic looking object that looked like a piece of pure, white coral; various peculiar sculptures of polished stone with embarrassingly large genitals; a painting of a dancing monkey; some large wooden bangles; and a set of three stone plates. But none of these seemed to be what the Doctor was looking for and they all got laid aside.

But then, with a flourish like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he reached deep into the box and drew out a smooth, glossy object shaped like a bullet. It was about the same size as the palm of his hand and appeared to be made from gleaming copper. "Oh yes!" He gave her a victorious grin. "A _lot_ further away, I'd say!"

Allie stared at the strange, metallic cylinder. "What _is_ that thing?"

"It's a lure," he said. "For hunting. They use them on the planet Xbek. Once it's activated, it emits a mating call. Kind of like a duck caller...you know..." He put his fist up to his mouth and blew through it, making a comical quacking noise.

Allie couldn't help laughing. However crazy this guy was, at least he wasn't boring, unlike most of the Council Inspectors she had met previously. "I know what a duck caller is, thank you very much. But are you seriously trying to tell me that thing is from outer space?"

"Ye-p!" he replied, popping the 'p' with peculiar emphasis. He put his hand back in his pocket and pulled out a pair of dark-rimmed glasses and perched them on the end of his nose. It should have made him look ridiculous, but somehow it didn't. In Allie's opinion, it merely added to his eccentric appeal. She had to admit, for a weird sci-fi geek, he was incredibly attractive.

Suddenly, he was holding another device, quite different to the little bleeping one he had been using before. This one was long and silver, with a blue light in the end, and it made a high-pitched buzzing noise as he waved it over the copper object in his palm. "And it's been activated, probably from jouncing around in that box during transit. Which must be why my timey-wimey detector picked it up. That signal's strong enough to be heard galaxies away. I'm guessing we don't have much time."

A frisson of apprehension trickled up Allie's spine. "Much time for what?"

He didn't answer. In fact, Allie wasn't sure he had even heard. He was busy pulling all sorts of strange things out of his pockets. She watched in amazement, unable to work out where it was all coming from. His pockets had to be a whole lot bigger than they looked!

"Where's that lead to?" he asked urgently, indicating the large, double back door.

"Out into the alley behind the shops," she shrugged.

"Brilliant! That's perfect, just what we need!" With quick, jerky movements, he started unrolling some wire, pulling at it with his teeth. Then he dodged around the table and began using his silver wand-thing to fasten it around the door frame. "Right, you'd better come and stand over here. You've just been promoted to my official look-out girl."

For want of anything better to do, and held fast in the grip of her own curiosity, Allie joined him at the door. He flung both sides of the entranceway wide and she could see the raindrops pattering down on the cobblestones outside. Then he crouched down and began connecting his wire to some other unfamiliar bits and pieces. She watched him for a few moments, but eventually had to concede that she had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

"So," she ventured, unsure exactly what was required of an official look-out girl. "I'm supposed to stand here and warn you when I see a big crowd of ducks coming down the alleyway, is that the gist of it? At least it's the right weather for them." The joke sounded lame even in her own ears, and she fully expected him to tell her so.

Instead, his head shot up, his forehead wrinkled into a confused frown. "Ducks? Who said anything about ducks?"

"_You_ did. You said that copper thing was some sort of weird alien duck caller."

"No, I didn't. I said it was _like_ a duck caller, I didn't say it _was_ one."

Allie held her breath and counted to ten, trying to rein in her temper. He might be the best-looking guy she had met for a very long time, but he was also the most infuriating. Why did she always attract the nutcases? "Then _what _exactly am I supposed to be watching out for?"

"A Calliphorid," he replied. "Sort of like a really big blowfly. Imagine one of those really fat, black, buzzy flies you get in your house in summer and then magnify it about a million times. Don't worry, when it comes, you won't miss it."

Allie felt an overwhelming desire to burst into hysterical giggles. She couldn't decide who was crazier, him with his wild stories, or her for standing here listening to him so calmly. "So...that copper thing is sending out a mating call to a giant, alien blowfly, which is about to drop in from outer space and come buzzing along the back alleyway, through my back door and into my shop?"

He nodded in a preoccupied way, still fiddling about with whatever it was he was putting together. "That's about the size of it."

"OK, stop now!" she snapped, her mounting irritation finally getting the better of her. Whirling on the spot, she looked all around her, carefully searching every one of the familiar dusty corners of the room. "Just stop. This isn't funny. Where's the camera?"

"What camera?"

"Well, there has to be one, doesn't there? Because this whole thing is so ridiculous, it just has to be one of those stupid candid camera reality TV shows that try to make people look like idiots. Any moment now, Ashton Kutcher is going to pop out and yell out, 'You're punk'd!' at the top of his voice, right?"

"Ashton Kutcher? Nah, I don't think so!" the Doctor replied placidly. "I've met a lot of people on the Earth, but never him. Not sure I want to, really. Plenty more cooler people than him to meet. Take William Shakespeare, for instance. He was brilliant. Or Harry Houdini – now that bloke could tell ghost stories that would curl your toes. Or even Marie Antoinette. Lovely girl. I don't mean to boast, but she lost her head over me a bit."

Allie threw her hands up in the air in sheer frustration. "You are totally insane, you know that, right?"

"We-ell, you're actually not the first to say that," he grinned. "All that aside though, can I just suggest that the whole point of being a look-out girl, is actually to do some looking out?"

Allie turned her back on him and stalked back over to the open door. Maybe if she ignored him for long enough, he would get sick of whatever game he was playing and go away. If it went on for too much longer, she supposed she would have to call the police. But for some reason, even though it was definitely the easiest way out of this, that solution didn't appeal to her. After all, it wasn't as if he had threatened her in any way. He was just completely delusional.

She gazed out at the rain-washed alley way, exaggeratedly looking back and forth, pretending to play along, in case he was watching her. _Look to the left. Look to the right. Look to the left again..._she hummed mockingly to herself.

And that was when she heard it, coming from her left – a low, insistent buzzing sound, gradually getting louder. And louder. And louder.

_No, _she thought, her eyes widening in horror, _no, no, no, that's not possible._

But then the creature came into sight and she could no longer deny it. It was flying low, following the twists and turns of the alleyway with perfect precision. It had delicate, gossamer, black-veined wings; six jointed legs; a metallic-sheened, blue-green carapace; and two huge eyes, like enormous bronze mirrors. Most notable of all, it was also the size of a small helicopter.

Allie felt all the colour draining out of her face. "Oh. My. God," she croaked, her throat suddenly dry and tight with fear.

"I take it that means it's coming!" the Doctor said, flipping his silver wand into the air and returning it to his pocket. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and yanked her backwards with him, until they were both behind the table. "Looks like I finished just in time."

Allie was trembling from head to toe with shock. "Oh god, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you!" she gasped.

"Never mind that now! Just keep down!" he instructed.

This time, she was only too pleased to listen to him, peeking anxiously out between two of the cardboard boxes. She tightened her fingers convulsively on his, only to feel him squeeze back. His hand was cool in hers, his grasp strong and reassuring. A faint thought came to her that she should be running like hell - but for some reason, being with the Doctor suddenly seemed a whole lot safer than anywhere else she could think of. The buzzing noise was so loud by now that it seemed almost to vibrate the thin walls of the shop. The pressure on Allie's ears was so intense that she was afraid her eardrums were about to burst. There was a heavy thump on the wall outside and an enormous head came into view, dominated by those two spine-chilling eyes and sporting a pair of bristling antennae. Allie clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling her instinctive scream.

The Doctor leapt to his feet, holding out the metal cylinder that had caused all the problems in the first place. "This is what you want, isn't it?" he yelled, waving the thing above his head. "Come on, Fly-Guy, come and get it then!"

The enormous fly hesitated, its antennae twitched back and forth, as if scenting the air for danger. But in the end, the lure of the cylinder was too strong and the thin, loathsome legs appeared around the side of the door as it began to crawl purposefully inside.

The Doctor popped back down again and pulled Allie's face against his chest. "Shield your eyes!" he commanded, ducking his own head down. All at once, there was a fierce, hissing sound and, even with her eyes closed, Allie caught a flash of bright white light, searing through the thin membrane of her eyelids. The terrible buzzing stopped abruptly, as if someone had cut the thick, obnoxious sound with a knife.

The only thing she could hear in the remaining silence was the pounding of the Doctor's heart, under the soft, warm cotton of his shirt. It was odd, she thought dazedly, it seemed to be beating much too fast, almost as though it was going double time. Almost as though he had_ two _hearts, which was utterly impossible.

"You can look now," he said. "It's all over."

Reluctantly, she pulled away from the comforting shelter of his arms and peered between the boxes again. The gigantic fly was flying on its back on the floor. Its bronze, mirror-like eyes were now cloudy and opaque, while its legs quivered periodically, before finally falling still.

"Is it dead?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said curtly. To her surprise, there was an expression very like regret on his face. "I'm afraid so."

She didn't understand why he seemed so upset. "But...that's good, isn't it?"

He dragged in a deep, heavy breath that sounded like a sigh. "No, it's not 'good'. I don't like to kill things. But, in this case, I had no choice. If that thing was allowed to breed on the Earth, it would have wiped out the entire human population within three months."

Personally, Allie couldn't see the problem. She couldn't be happier that the thing was dead. Killing flies was just what you did – even bizarrely enormous ones like this. But she could see he was completely serious and so she didn't like to argue, especially since he had probably just saved her life. She shuddered to think what would have happened if that thing had turned up and he hadn't been there.

"What...happened to it?"

He shrugged, rising to his feet and stepping out from behind the table, staring moodily down at the creature, his hands in his coat pockets. Allie followed more slowly, still watching the dead fly warily for signs of movement.

"Magnesium flares rigged to a simple sensor. Calliphorids are extremely photosensitive. The ultra-bright light overloaded its neuron network. Killed it instantly."

Allie glanced at him sideways. "And...you just happened to have some magnesium flares in your pockets?"

His brooding expression melted into an amused smile, his brown eyes losing their distant look and suddenly twinkling as he focused on her. "Never know when you might need 'em."

Despite everything that had just happened, she still felt her heart skipping a beat at that smile.

"So...what should we do now? Call the authorities? The police? Someone in the government?"

He raised his eyebrows. "What for?"

"Well...to report it!" she blurted out incredulously. "Surely I have to tell _someone_!"

He removed his glasses and put them away. "I wouldn't," he advised. "The authorities tend to be very boring about this sort of thing, I've always found. Apart from a few notable exceptions, like Torchwood or UNIT, that is."

"B...but..." she stammered. "I have an enormous dead blowfly corpse lying in my back room! How the hell am I supposed to explain that?"

"You won't have to." He pointed down at the Calliphorid. "It's disintegrating already. See?"

Sure enough, the fly was slowly collapsing into dust in front of their eyes, its shining, jewel-like carapace and glittering wings crumbling into ugly black smears on the wooden floor. To Allie's surprise, watching the creature fall so ignominiously apart, she felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. Just a few minutes ago, it had been so alive. She would never forget her first sight of it, zooming so skilfully and terribly down the narrow alleyway. In its own abhorrent way, it had been rather magnificent. Suddenly, dimly, she began to see where the Doctor was coming from in his regret for the creature's death.

"Here," he said, taking a brush and broom from the corner. "I'll help you clear up."

They worked silently together, scooping up the pile of black dust and transferring it out to the dustbin in the alley, until the floor was clean again. With the evidence gone, it was as if the whole thing had never happened. If it wasn't for the Doctor still standing beside her, Allie could almost believe it had all been some kind of weird dream.

The Doctor gathered up his equipment and put it back into his strangely capacious pockets, together with the innocuous-looking copper cylinder that had started it all. "I'll keep this, if you don't mind," he said. "Get rid of it, before it does any more damage."

Allie didn't mind at all. She didn't want the thing anywhere near her. It gave her the creeps.

"You're not really from the Council, are you, Doctor?" she challenged softly.

He grinned guiltily, reminding her strongly of a school boy caught doing something naughty. "Not...as such," he admitted.

"Who are you then?"

"Just a traveller." Hesitantly, he reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. They'd only just met - with most people she hardly knew, she would have recoiled, finding the gesture intrusive. But with him, it just seemed natural and right. "I just realised," he continued. "I never even asked your name."

"It's Allison. Allison Castiel," she replied, a little shakily. "But I usually get called Allie."

"Allison Castiel," he repeated, his brown eyes serious, as if he was committing the name to memory. "Nice to meet you, Allie."

Again, she caught that elusive hint of loneliness in his face. Where would he go now, this strange, mysterious man? she wondered. Did he have people waiting for him who loved him? Or was he, like her, all alone?

"Would you like...a cup of tea or something?"

She knew the question sounded ridiculous, after everything they'd just been through – the old British cliché that everything could be fixed with a cup of hot, sweet tea. But she had to say something to make him realise he was welcome to stay if he wanted to.

He gave her a lop-sided smile and shook his head. Her heart sank like a lead weight.

"Thanks, but I'd better get on. Maybe another time."

"Sure," she said brightly, trying not to show how disappointed she was. "Whenever you're in the neighbourhood! The offer still stands."

He walked towards the still-open door leading into the alley, before looking back over his shoulder at her. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again, Allie Castiel."

And, before she could reply, the doorway was empty and he was gone.

"I hope so, Doctor," she murmured. "I truly hope so."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: Thank you very much to the lovely reviewers on the first chapter - findingyouagain, Imorgen, tigersoul101, IamDaughteroftheStars, MayFairy, EmmaMarie, EDZEL2, irishartemis, Marzipan, MountainLord-92 and Aietradaea. Your feedback is gratefully accepted :)**_

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**- Chapter Two -**

Allie was incredibly restless for the rest of the day, fidgeting about and unable to keep still.

_How exactly are you meant to go back to the way things were before, when some strange alien-hunter breezes in and disintegrates a giant blowfly in your back room, before just cheerfully disappearing out of your life?_ she wondered crossly.

The simple answer to that was that she couldn't. The thought was very depressing. It didn't help that she only had three other customers during the day and none of them bought anything. Apparently her finances would soon be sinking along with everything else.

At last, in desperation, she went into the back room and stared at the boxes on the table. The items that the Doctor had already unpacked were still sitting there in a higgledy-piggledy line. With a sigh, she supposed she had better finish the job and get the new stock out on the shelves where customers could see them. Maybe someone with a passion for African artefacts would come along and buy the whole lot.

_Yeah_, she snorted silently. _Fat chance_. But at least it was something to do.

Energised by renewed purpose, she went across to the cupboard and pulled out the inventory listing, keeping her eyes resolutely averted from the faint, almost imperceptible dark stain on the floor, the only reminder left behind of the mess she and the Doctor had swept up earlier.

She scanned the listing, searching for the entry for the alien object she had so unwittingly acquired, curious as to what the written description of the item would read. Disappointingly, when she found it, all it said was, "Cylindrical copper artefect, one." There was no further information, no provenance, no history of where it had come from. That was the problem with buying a job lot like this, you never had any idea exactly what you were getting. Probably, whoever her aunt had purchased it from had been equally ignorant about what it really was.

Resolving to put the whole thing out of her mind, she firmly crossed the copper cylinder off the listing in thick, black pen. Then she began to unpack and tick off the other items in the boxes, before transferring them to the front room and attempting to display them as enticingly as she could. Which wasn't easy, considering how ugly some of the objects truly were. She wrinkled her nose as she set out the statues of the fertility gods, trying to minimise the visual effect of their grossly engorged genitals by placing them behind some of the other artefacts. This kind of bric-a-brac really wasn't her cup of tea. The coral ornament was pretty enough, she supposed, if a bit useless – pure and white and somehow serene-looking. And the wooden jewellery was okay, if you liked that sort of thing. But the rest of it she wouldn't have as a gift.

Thankfully, the task took up the rest of the day, with only a quick break for lunch, keeping her busy and giving her little time to dwell on the astonishing events of the morning. Dusk was falling as she finished, the wintery afternoon closing in early, as usual. Stretching and rubbing at her aching back, she stood back and admired her handiwork.

"Whaddya think, Charlie?" she asked, addressing the question to the life-sized statue of a stone warrior standing to attention next to the counter. It was a replica of one of the terracotta soldiers found buried in huge underground pits in China in the 1970s. Allie's aunt had acquired it two years ago for next to nothing from a deceased estate, but they had never been able to sell it. It had since become a permanent feature in the shop and Allie had affectionately nicknamed it "Charlie", for no particular reason.

As always, Charlie looked straight ahead without answering, his stone-mustached face stern and inflexible.

"Yeah, you're a right barrel of laughs, you are!" Allie said, patting him on the shoulder with a wry smile. "Well, just for that, you can manage on your own for the rest of the evening. I'm off home."

She tidied everything away neatly in the back room, filing the completed inventory list and stacking the empty boxes in the storeroom. Then she turned out the lights and made for the door, switching on the alarm system as she went.

It was nearly dark already, even though it wasn't yet five o'clock. The gusting wind was bitterly cold and the gathering clouds overhead were black and ominous. Allie guessed it would snow before morning. She turned up her collar and pulled her coat even more closely around her, before making her way up the street.

Fortunately, she didn't live too far away, easily within walking distance, in a little upstairs flat over a bakery. It was very cramped, with hardly enough room to swing a cat, but Allie loved it just the same. One of her ex-boyfriends, as well as being a lying, cheating git, had also been a painter and decorator, and when she had moved in, he had painted the entire flat in modern, neutral shades of antique white and beige. Allie had never liked it – it was bland and boring and featureless. So, as soon as she had got rid of Two-timing Terrence (after she caught him kissing one of the bridesmaids behind a hedge at the reception venue at a wedding they had attended), she had set about changing it the way she wanted. Now the small rooms were her haven from the outside world, glowing with a myriad of warm, jewel-like colours, from the soft rugs on the polished floor, to the cushions piled on the sofa, to the modern artwork on the walls. Delicious smells, constantly drifting up from the bakery below, created a comforting, welcoming ambience as soon as she opened the door, making her stomach rumble in hunger.

Closing the door behind her and pulling off her coat, she found herself wondering where the Doctor was right now and what he was doing. He was probably off saving some other damsel in distress, she thought wistfully, remembering the way those warm brown eyes had twinkled at her. He hadn't really said who or what he was. A traveller. Just a traveller. It sounded so mysterious and unencumbered and free, as if his horizons were infinite and never-ending.

She sighed again and went about her usual evening routine: turning up the heating, picking at a meal of healthily steamed fish and vegetables and then taking a long scented bath with a glass of wine and a good book - a best-selling sci-fi thriller that thankfully had nothing to do with giant alien blowflies.

Ever since she had ditched Two-timing Terrence, she had appreciated the solitude of her little flat, being able to live as she wanted for a change, to come and go without answering to anyone. But tonight, being on her own didn't seem quite so appealing...it felt...well, _lonely_. After her bath, she sat on the sofa in her pyjamas, flipping desultorily through the uninteresting TV channels, another glass of wine in her hand. Eventually, the canned laughter echoing from the television began to grate on her, giving her a headache. Romantic comedies really weren't all that funny, she thought sourly, clicking the off switch and watching the screen fade to black. Not in her present mood, anyway.

Giving up, she tossed the remote aside and headed towards her bedroom, determined to get an early night.

* * *

Far away in the TARDIS, cycling idly through the Time Vortex, the Doctor was fiddling around with a piece of circuitry that really didn't need to be fiddled around with. He had his sonic screwdriver out and was concentrating hard on what he was doing, pretending he didn't notice how empty the cathedral-like space of the time machine felt all around him. The silence pressed in on him, filled with nothing but the ever-present hum of the TARDIS systems. It didn't help that he kept expecting Rose, or Martha, or Donna to walk up behind him and ask him what he was doing. But none of them were here any more. There was just him, all alone.

He gave himself a mental shake. This was what he had chosen, after all, when he returned Donna back to her home in Chiswick, all memories of him wiped from her mind. _The everlasting death of the most faithful companion. _The prophecy made by the insane Dalek Caan had proven to be gut-wrenchingly true in the end. Even though Donna had not physically died, the truth of everything she had become had been erased, the death of the amazing, brilliant, confident person she had developed into as she travelled with him. Hearing her so wrapped up in useless, banal trivialities on the phone to her friend as he had left the house had nearly broken his hearts.

_Never again_, he told himself grimly. _Even though I loved them_, _I damaged them all, each and every one of them. Rose. Jack. Martha. Donna. And I will never knowingly do that again to another person._

But as he worked, he couldn't stop his mind drifting back to the little antique shop and the girl that owned it. _Allison Castiel._ He pictured her in his head, the tousled mop of short, curly blonde hair, the slender, willowy figure, the grey eyes that were one moment solemn and serious, the next dancing with laughter. She had intrigued him from the first, just as all his previous companions had. That tiny, indefinable spark that drew him to them, that signified that they were special - that they were companion material. Not everyone he came across had it, just an elite few, and he could never tell exactly what it was. In Allie's case, he thought it might have been something to do with the way she had tilted her determined little chin and taken the arrival of the Calliphorid more or less in her stride. No screaming, no hysterics, no ranting. Instead, once the initial shock wore off, just strong, unabashed curiosity, mixed in with a calm, practical streak he couldn't help admiring. Now_ that _was the sort of girl he'd like to show the Universe to.

If he was still taking companions on board, of course. Which he wasn't.

Allie had been crying when he first entered the shop – he reasoned that she probably had more than enough problems on her plate without him adding to them. So, as soon as they had finished clearing up, he had hurriedly left, not even staying for a cup of tea, just in case he gave into the strong temptation to ask her to come with him. It wasn't fair to mess up her life just because he was lonely.

But something else irked him about the shop. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was. Something he had seen but hadn't yet had the chance to process in all the excitement over the Calliphorid. As a Time Lord, his memory was almost photographic, and something had been nagging at him ever since he left. Giving up on the circuitry in front of him, he put his screwdriver back in his pocket and closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus, going over every little thing he had done once he entered the shop. Step by step, he mentally retraced his own progress through the shop area at the front through to the back room, analysing every movement he had made.

And suddenly, with a curse, his eyes snapped open again. Of course, how the _hell _had he missed it? Now Allie was in danger again and it was his fault for not recognising it earlier. Frantically, he began re-setting the coordinates on the control panels, running around the console pushing buttons and pulling levers, praying with everything he had that he wouldn't be too late.

* * *

Allie wasn't supposed to drink coffee, but as she let herself out early the next morning into the snowy wonderland her street had become overnight, she decided that didn't care and she bloody well deserved one.

The delicate flakes were still drifting down from the sky, covering her shoulders in a feathery blanket of white crystals as she trudged down the street, trying to keep her balance on the icy footpath. She pulled her pink woollen hat further down over her ears, knowing she must look like something the cat dragged in. She had hardly been able to sleep a wink the night before, her rest haunted by recurrent bad dreams. After what had happened the previous day, the nightmares didn't surprise her. What did surprise her, however, was the fact that there hadn't been a giant blowfly to be found in any of the terrifying visions. Instead, her sleep had been plagued by images of the Doctor, drowning in front of her eyes. The water in the dreams seemed almost alive, crawling up his face and dragging him under. And every time she reached for him to save him, she couldn't seem to get close enough and she missed. He look on his face had been so agonised, so anguished, that she couldn't bear it... she had cried out his name in her sleep and the sound of her own voice had jerked her awake. After that, she hadn't dared to go back to sleep, huddling on the sofa instead, wrapped in a blanket and watching mind-numbing infomercials on the television until the pale morning light dawned across the sky.

Thinking about it now, she shuddered all over again, walking faster in an attempt to dislodge the disturbing memories. Obviously the incident with the blowfly had shaken her even more thoroughly than she had realised. She stopped at a street vendor's stall and bought a large, black coffee, hoping the strong, acrid flavour would help to chase away the lingering night terrors. Then, sipping the drink steadily, savouring the warmth spreading through her body, she paused at a newspaper-stand to buy a paper. The vendor smiled at her and she smiled back. He was an elderly man, somewhat eccentric, with a wispy grey beard and moustache, and merry, bright blue eyes. He was wearing a heavy khaki coat and a red beanie, decorated with a Parachute Regiment badge from his National Service days. Allie liked him and always made time to exchange a greeting with him.

"'Morning, sweetheart," he said cheerfully. "What's been happening with you? Any nice young men turned up to sweep you off your feet yet?"

"Not yet," she responded, wondering what he would say if she told him all about the Doctor and the visit from the alien blowfly. He'd probably think she was completely delusional and she wouldn't blame him one bit.

He handed her a paper. "If only I was forty years younger," he joked. "I wouldn't be silly enough to let a good sort like you get away."

"If only you were," she agreed with a smile. "I'd definitely take you up on it! See you tomorrow!"

Unfurling the paper, she continued walking up the street, the still-falling snowflakes smudging the black newsprint on the pages. There was no mention anywhere in the paper of the visit to London by the Calliphorid. She was left to the inevitable conclusion that – as unbelievable as it may seem – apart from the Doctor, she was the only one who had witnessed the astonishing event. And something told her that the Doctor was far too used to dealing with astonishing events to ever bother telling his story to a newspaper reporter.

Reaching the door of the shop, she stamped the snow off her boots before opening the door and letting herself in. She guessed the street-sweeper would come around before too long, clearing the streets and footpaths, piling all the snow into dirty, sludgy, unattractive piles. But, for now, the sparkling white layer made the whole world look beautiful and magical. In the park across the road, the trees raised their skeletal branches to the grey sky, their branches decorated with glimmering ice crystals. Allie tilted her head back and opened her mouth, allowing one of the delicate snowflakes to fall into her mouth. She knew she was probably swallowing ten different kinds of pollution, but she didn't care. The snowflake tasted cold and sharp and crisp on her coffee-coated tongue. It would probably seem silly to anybody else, but it was tiny moments like this that reminded her she was alive and she snatched them wherever she could.

With a tired smile, she slipped inside the shop and switched the sign on the door over from 'Closed' to 'Open'.

"'Morning, Charlie," she sang out, patting the statue on the head as she went past.

She had just gone into the back room to hang up her damp coat, when the bells on the exterior door tinkled wildly, just as they had done yesterday when the Doctor had arrived out of the blue.

Allie frowned in irritation. Customers this early? She hadn't even had a chance to unlock the cash register. Then she heard a familiar voice urgently calling her name. "Allie? Allie, where are you?"

Her eyes widened in shock. "_Doctor?_ I'm back here."

The inner door was flung violently open and she saw him framed there, still dressed in his brown suit and his long, tan coat, his hair standing up in spikes, as though he had been running his hands through it.

He leapt at her, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Allie! Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said bewilderedly. "Why shouldn't I be?"

In a blur of movement, he whirled away from her to the table. "Where is it? WHERE IS IT?"

"Where's what?"

"The boxes that were here yesterday! What did you do with them?"

"I unpacked them, of course," she replied, her tone a little tart. She was very glad to see him, but his curt, impatient tone of voice was almost accusing, as if she had done something wrong. "That's what you do in a shop, put the stock out for people to buy."

Without another word, he turned and ran out into the front of the shop. Allie followed him, watching as he rapidly searched the shelves, tossing things around in a haphazard fashion, totally ruining the display she had spent so long creating yesterday.

"What exactly are you doing?" she asked.

"The little round thing that looks like a piece of white coral," he bit out. "I pulled it out of the box yesterday. Where is it?"

She pointed to a locked display case across the room. "It's over there. It looked delicate, so I kept it separate from the other things."

The Doctor gave a muffled exclamation and dived over to it. Wrapping his hand protectively in his coat, he violently smashed the glass front of the display case, shoving the broken shards aside and snatching the small coral thing off the shelf. To Allie's surprise, she saw that it was no longer the serene peaceful white colour she had admired yesterday. Now it was a deep rose pink, no less beautiful, but somehow much more disturbing.

"What-" she began.

But the Doctor was already running for the front door. "It's a bomb!" he yelled over his shoulder.

The unprecedented words shot a cold shaft of terror right through her. Oh God! she thought numbly. If he was right and it really was an explosive...and the colour had just inexplicably gone from white to pink...

She tore after him. He was already pelting across the street, his long legs carrying him towards the park. She followed, desperate fear clawing at her all the way. What sort of bomb was it? How much damage could it do? What if it blew up in his hand...? She ran as hard as she could, disregarding any danger of slipping in the knee deep snow, her rasping breath condensing in misty white clouds around her. At last, she managed to catch up with him as he hesitated on the edge of the pond in the middle of the park, evidently debating what to do next. The pond was both large and deep. It had already started to freeze over around the edges, but the middle was still liquid. Even as she watched, the small object in his hand went from rose-pink to a deep, pulsating red. The Doctor made up his mind and drew back his hand, tossing it with unerring accuracy into the very centre of the pool of water.

Spinning around, he raced back towards her, throwing himself right at her. "GET DOWN!" he roared, sending her flying into the ground, his body protectively covering hers. Tense with anticipation, waiting for the deafening noise of an explosion, Allie thrust her face deep into the cold, wet snow, feeling the heavy, reassuring weight of him crushing down on her.

Moments ticked by, and nothing happened, except that the cold and damp began to seep uncomfortably through Allie's clothes, turning the fabric clammy against her skin. Patiently, she allowed a couple more minutes to go by. Then she felt the Doctor raise his head and look back over his shoulder towards the pond. She could feel a relieved giggle building in her throat at the anti-climax of it all, the situation appealing to her strong sense of the ridiculous. It seemed that, just for once, her mysterious travelling man had got it all wrong.

"Um, Doctor...?" she began, the incipient laughter bubbling through her voice. "Is it supposed to take this long?"

The Doctor sat up. There was a self-deprecating frown on his face and he rubbed distractedly at the back of his neck. "It was a bit of a fizzer, wasn't it?" he said wryly. "I could have sworn that..."

And at that instant, the entire world seemed to explode. The blast was the loudest thing Allie had ever heard in her life, detonating through her ears like a physical blow. The Doctor threw himself over her again, just as an enormous fountain of water geysered up from the middle of the pond into the sky, showering them with icy water.

Slowly, the reverberating echoes died away and the Doctor raised his head again. "There we go," he said in satisfaction. "As I was saying, I could have sworn that was a photonic bomb, similar to the ones used by the Rutan Host to destroy the Sontaran home world in the 26th century."

Allie twisted her head around to look up at him, incredulous at his calm, unruffled attitude, as if this sort of thing happened to him every day. "Oh," was all she could think of to say. "Right." Then, as a sort of after thought, she added, "If it's all over now, I don't suppose you could get off me, could you? Only, you are kind of squashing me a bit."

His grin broadened approvingly and he rolled his weight from on top of her, until his lanky body was lying beside her in the snow. "Good morning, Allie Castiel," he said cheerfully. "Now how about that cup of tea?"


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Blimey, and I was worried about this chapter being too short. Just goes to show, you never know :P**_

_**Anyway, thanks so much to those brilliant folks who were kind enough to provide feedback for the previous chapters - yes, I mean you: SophieQueenOfTheWorld, Guest,EmmaMarie, EDZEL2, Aietradaea, MountainLord-92, irishartemis, The Yoshinator, MayFairy, TheWickedHeart, BlackMoonWhiteSky and Theta'sWorstNightmare.**_

_**As I've said to a few people, I'm very much enjoying writing Ten for a change. However, for those following "Falling Out Of The World", don't fret, I am writing the next chapter - I promise I won't leave the Time Lords staring up at a lethal falling chandelier for much longer.**_

_**Allons-y!**_

* * *

**- Chapter Three -**

The Doctor jumped to his feet, brushed the snow off the front of his coat, and then extended a hand to Allie in a gentlemanly fashion. She took it and allowed him to help her to her feet. Behind them, the pond was virtually empty, nothing but a muddy, slimy hole in the ground, the majority of the water having cascaded all around the park with the force of the explosion. There was going to be hell to pay when the Council got a load of that, Allie thought ruefully. Not to mention the local police, if anyone had called them. Fortunately, the park had been deserted, the extreme cold having discouraged even the most determined of early morning joggers. Even so, this was London – _someone_ would have heard such a deafening explosion. And, ten to one, they would have rung the police. After all, that's what _she _would have done, if she wasn't the one stuck in the middle of it all. She tried to visualise the faces of the attending officers as the Doctor did his best to explain what had happened, rattling on about...what was it? Rutans? Sontarans? Her mind baulked at the disturbing prospect. Altogether, it was probably best for neither of them to be there when the police arrived.

She tucked her arm companionably into the Doctor's, walking quickly towards the entrance to the park and pulling him along with her. There didn't seem to be any extra activity on the street, much to her relief. The only unusual thing was a blue police box, situated on the footpath opposite the shop, which she was sure hadn't been there yesterday. Hoping that no-one was inside the box watching them, she put her head down and hurried towards the shop.

"So...how do you like your tea?" she asked brightly. "White? Black? Sugar?"

The Doctor put up no resistance, allowing himself to be shepherded along, his brown eyes brimming with suppressed laughter as he looked down at her. Allie had the strong impression that he knew exactly what she was up to, and it amused him very much.

"And there it is again!" he said jubilantly.

Alarmed, she looked all around, half expecting to see another enormous blowfly bearing down on them. "_What?_"

"That calm, practical streak," the Doctor answered. "I've just blown up your local park with an alien bomb that was ticking away in your shop, but do you faint or burst into tears or start yelling at me? No, you instantly start thinking about how we can both make a clean getaway. Unflappable, that's you, Allie Castiel, totally unflappable. It's very impressive."

Allie felt her cheeks growing warm at the compliment. She'd never particularly thought of herself as impressive in any way before, but it was nice that he thought so. "I'm probably still in shock, to tell you the truth," she replied, as they crossed the road back towards the shop. "I'm pretty sure I've never had anyone rescue me from certain death before and definitely not twice in as many days. I think the nearest I've ever come was when a bloke dived across the bar in a pub to stop a pint of lager spilling all over me. And even then, I think he was more worried about saving the lager than about me, so it wasn't quite the same."

The Doctor's lips twitched humorously. "No, I don't suppose it was. You're very welcome for both rescues." He paused for a moment and pointed up at the sign above the shop door. It read: 'Ye Old Curiosity Shoppe, Antiques and Bric-a-brac'. "I like the name of your shop. Very appropriate, when you think about it."

Allie glanced up at the bold, black calligraphy. "My aunt was a Dickens fan."

"Good for her!" the Doctor approved. "He was brilliant, old Chas. A bit of a know-it-all, mind you, but nobody's perfect. As for your shop, I think I'd better make sure there aren't any more 'curiosities' lurking about in there!"

"Please do!" Allie agreed fervently, pushing open the door and going inside, shivering as the comforting warmth of the small room enveloped her frozen body. "I could do without any more nasty surprises this week. What I don't understand, though, Doctor, is where these...things...came from in the first place. You seem to think they belonged to two different alien species. How did they end up sold at auction in Africa, mixed in with a miscellaneous job lot of ugly old tat?"

The Doctor followed her in and closed the door. "Truth?" he responded. "I'm not exactly sure. But when I scanned that Xbekian bronze cylinder, I found residual Rift energy clinging to it. Judging from that, I suspect that a teeny tiny temporal rift may have opened up somewhere in Africa, and someone's been very busy collecting the artefacts coming through it."

Allie sighed at the incomprehensibility of it all. "Okay, you've lost me again. What's a temporal rift, teeny tiny or otherwise?"

"It's a weakness in time and space. People and objects can pass through it, moving from one location in spacetime to another. Basically, it's like a huge garbage disposal unit – it sucks in the flotsam and jetsam of the Universe at one point and spits it out at another," he explained. "The major opening to it on Earth is situated in Cardiff. A little while back, it fractured, and the Rift temporarily expanded to cover other places as well, including London and Tokyo. The most extensive fissures repaired themselves when the Rift closed again, but there were a few little nicks in Time that never quite healed. For instance, there's one in Mexico that tends to be very annoyingly active. And now, quite possibly, one in Africa somewhere."

"Okay, so there are holes in the space/time continuum and dangerous stuff is falling through them for anyone and his brother to pick up," Allie said slowly. "I've read enough science fiction to get the concept. But shouldn't we do something about it? Stop it happening before someone gets badly hurt? Some poor civilian like me who has absolutely no idea what's going on?"

The Doctor hunched his shoulders. "It's not that easy, unfortunately. But I've got my very best man on the job, promise. His name is Captain Jack Harkness and he's very experienced with temporal rifts. In fact, he's very experienced with a lot of other things as well, but some stuff you just don't want to know, unless you've got access to some industrial strength mind bleach. Anyway, the point is, I gave him a call yesterday. He and his team will locate the fissure in Africa and monitor any future activity, which hopefully should stop anyone else getting hurt."

Before Allie could formulate a reply to this, they heard the wailing sound of sirens fast approaching. "Ah, the boys in blue. Always so subtle, aren't they, the London constabulary?" the Doctor noted sarcastically, peeking out the front window at the police cars screaming to a halt across the road in front of the park.

"I wouldn't know," she replied, coming to stand by his side and watching the uniformed officers hare off into the park. "I've never had much to do with them until now."

"They won't find anything. There's nothing left _to_ find. Rutan photonic bombs are fairly efficient that way."

The stark implications of that comment made her shudder as she imagined all too clearly what would have happened if the bomb had gone off in the shop. Or, even worse, in his hand.

He slanted a look down at her. "You're shivering. Those clothes are soaking wet. Have you got any others to put on? Don't want you coming down with something serious."

"No, we wouldn't want that." Her lips quirked in an odd half smile. "I've got some other things in the back. What about you?"

"Me? Nah, I had my handy-dandy coat on. Right as a trivet, me." With that, he stripped off his damp coat and looked around for somewhere to hang it, before settling for a convenient deer-head mounted rather crookedly on the wall. "Although, why a trivet should be more right than anything else is really anyone's guess. Like saying right as rain. Why is rain supposed to be always right, I'd like to know? I've had days when the rain has been very wrong indeed."

"Do you always talk this much?" Allie asked in amusement. He reminded her of Tigger out of the Winnie-the-Pooh books she had read as a kid, always bouncing about everywhere, full of energy, enthusiasm and constant chatter. And yet, as the same time, she got the feeling that she was merely seeing the tiniest tip of the iceberg. Beneath the cheerful banter, there was whole a lot more to the Doctor than outward appearances would suggest.

"Not at all!" he returned. "Mostly, I talk a lot more. I just didn't want to hold you up while you're so cold and wet. Off you go. I'll hold the fort here."

With that, he pulled his silver wand-thing out of his coat pocket and began waving it over the nearest shelf of artefacts. Allie hesitated for a second, debating the wisdom of leaving her shop in charge of a complete stranger. But every instinct she possessed was telling her that she could trust the Doctor, not just with the shop, but with everything else as well. So she turned away and headed for the back room, patting Charlie absent-mindedly on the head as she went.

She had hardly gone three steps before the bells over the door tinkled again. Thinking it was the police, Allie composed her features into what she hoped was an innocent expression and swung around. A dumpy little old lady, with carefully-hennaed hair and a face like a wrinkly apple, was entering the shop, brushing snow off her black woollen jacket on to the previously clean floor. Allie nearly groaned aloud. It was Mrs Neeson, one of her regular customers – if you could call someone a customer when they never bought anything. She was always coming into the shop and wasting oodles of Allie's time showing her everything, only to say that none of it suited her and walking out empty-handed, leaving Allie fuming behind her.

"Hello, dear. Did you know there were police everywhere outside?" the old woman chirped. "It's all very exciting. Apparently there was some sort of explosion in the park. Bound to be kids mucking around though, isn't it? Little devils. They get away with a lot more than they did in my day, I can tell you."

Allie forced a smile to her face. "Hello, Mrs Neeson. What can we do for you today?"

Mrs Neeson hobbled forward into the shop. "It's our Agnes's birthday next week and I was hoping to get her something special. I'm not sure I've come to the right place, though. You never seem to have anything _different_, do you, dear?"

Allie ground her teeth at the woman's saccharine-sweet voice. After everything that had happened, she really wasn't in the mood for this today. Nothing _different! _Ha, if only she knew...! In fact, if Allie had had been able to lay her hands on another Rutan whatsy-thingy bomb, she would gladly have given it to the stingy old besom, free of charge, just to be rid of her.

She was about to unleash a stinging retort, when the Doctor intervened, flashing the old woman his mega-watt smile. "Perhaps I could be of some assistance, Mrs Leeson?"

"It's Neeson, luv, Mrs Neeson," she replied, eyeing him up and down with interest nonetheless. "And who might you be? I don't remember seeing you in here before?"

"Mrs Neeson, yes, of course you are!" the Doctor said smoothly. "I'm John Smith, Miss Castiel's new assistant. Miss Castiel has some things to do in back, but I'd be delighted to help you pick out a present for your Agnes."

Mrs Neeson shot Allie a sly glance, the sharp black eyes in her pale face reminding Allie of two currants pressed into a ball of dough. "Oooh, a handsome young man as an assistant, you are doing well for yourself, dear. And he's dressed in a nice suit – you don't see that often these days."

The Doctor transferred his bright, confident grin to Allie. "Go on, then. We're all good here."

Allie's wet clothes were really starting to be uncomfortable by now and she could feel a big sneeze coming on, so she decided not to argue. If he really wanted Mrs Neeson that badly, he could have her. Perhaps after this he would be a little more careful what he volunteered for. Dealing with giant blowflies was a lot more appealing than suffering through a conversation with that old witch.

"White with three," he added, as she slipped behind the counter.

Allie frowned, but then smoothed her forehead out, aware of Mrs Neeson's inquisitive gaze resting on her. "Sorry?"

"You asked how I liked my tea? That's it – milk with three sugars."

"_Three _sugars?" Just the thought of all that concentrated sweetness made her want to gag. "Are you sure?"

"Yep. A looooong time ago, I used to drink it with four. Not so long ago, I preferred two. Now though, I'm definitely a three sugar man!"

"Okay, you asked for it." With that, she went through into the back room, leaving the door slightly ajar, so she could keep an eye on what was happening.

The Doctor had already returned his attention to Mrs Neeson and was burbling happily away. Allie switched the kettle on to boil and then grabbed her spare clothes out of a cupboard in the storeroom. All she had was a pair of faded jeans, an ancient T-shirt and an old red cable-knit jumper she liked to wear when lounging around on the weekend. It wasn't usually what she'd wear to work, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Nipping into the toilet, she took her time getting changed, her chilled skin welcoming the soft, warm comfort of the well-worn clothes. Then she returned to the kitchenette to make the Doctor his tea.

She could still hear him chatting away nineteen to the dozen. Mrs Neeson didn't seem to be getting a word in edgeways, something which made Allie grin maliciously. She lifted down two mugs and popped a tea bag in each. Hers had red hearts dotted all over it, while the Doctor's was larger, with a quote printed on it in blue writing that said, "THE ANGELS HAVE THE PHONEBOX". She'd bought it on a whim one day, from a bloke's stall at the Portobello Markets. He'd also been selling T-Shirts with the same logo. She didn't know what it was supposed to mean, really, but she thought it sounded interesting.

Just as she was scooping three generous helpings of sugar into the Doctor's mug, she heard the ring of the antique cash register. Her eyes widened. "No way!" she gasped.

Abandoning the mugs on the bench, she hurried back out into the front room, just in time to see the Doctor jovially ushering Mrs Neeson out of the shop.

"Well, you just think about it, Mrs Neeson, that's all I'm saying," he continued, holding the door open for her. "Remember, the early bird catches the worm and all that."

"I certainly will, Mr Smith," the woman said in a besotted voice. "I certainly will. Until next time, then!"

The door shut and the Doctor spun around to face Allie, a triumphant expression on his face. "Oh, I_ am_ good. Congratulations, Allie Castiel, you are now £210 richer!"

"You actually sold her something?" Allie asked dazedly, as he came towards her.

"Three somethings, actually. A particularly ugly little vase, a set of silver spoons...Georgian, if I'm not mistaken...and one of those fertility god statues with the really big whatsit. And I'm pleased to report, there wasn't a trace of rogue Rift energy on any of them, because I checked."

Allie was still too stunned to be in the least bit worried about rogue Rift energy. "You sold _Mrs Neeson_ a fertility god statue with a big whatsit?"

"Yup. I bet her Agnes will love it!" he grinned naughtily. "Oh, and I had a go at getting her to buy your terracotta warrior there too. Not quite so much luck with that, I'm afraid, although she did say she'd think about it."

"Charlie?" Allie sputtered, bursting into incredulous laughter at the thought. "Oh my God, you tried to sell _Charlie_? You might be good, Doctor, but you bit off a bit more than you can chew there. No-one can sell Charlie. It's not humanly possible!"

The humour faded from his gaze, his brown eyes becoming oddly grave as they held hers. "You're assuming I'm human," he said quietly.

Allie's mouth went dry with shock. Logically, she knew she should laugh, make a joke of it, treat it like more of his nonsensical banter. But something in his steady gaze told her that he was completely serious. She'd known from the first second he'd walked into her shop that he was different to any other man that she'd ever met – that he was somehow...extraordinary. But she'd never suspected anything like this. "Not...human?" she whispered.

He came nearer, until he was standing directly in front of her. "Give me your hand, Allie."

Hesitantly, she did as he asked. After all, she thought, if he'd been going to harm her, he'd had plenty of other opportunities. She felt his long, cool fingers wrapping around her small, shaky ones. Then he brought her hand up to the right side of his chest, sliding it under the lapel of his suit jacket. She could feel his heart pounding out a regular rhythm under her hand.

"Feel it?" he asked.

Staring fixedly at his tie, she nodded silently, unable to trust her voice. Then he moved her hand across to the left side of his chest, again tucking it inside the warmth of his jacket. Allie stiffened, her whole body going taut with tension. To her utter astonishment, she felt another heartbeat pulsing under her touch.

Her eyes flew to meet his once more. "Two hearts," she croaked, her mind whirling backwards to the previous day, when she had thought she heard an extra heartbeat in his chest, but had dismissed the idea as ridiculous. "You have two hearts."

"I'm a Time Lord," he said, still holding her hand against his second heart. "The last Time Lord, actually. The rest of my people are gone now. I come from a planet a long, long way from Earth. So no, I'm not human."

"What...what happened to the rest of your people?" she ventured.

His face hardened and she could see no trace of the merry, laughing man who had been there just a few moments ago. This man had been through terrible pain and hardship and loss, his brown eyes haunted by grief. His expression was so like the one he had worn in her nightmare that Allie felt her breath catch.

"There was a war," he said curtly. "They died."

Compassion welled inside her and tears prickled her eyes. What did you say to someone who had lost an entire planet? She tried to imagine what it would be like to be the only survivor of all the people on Earth, but she couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around it. "I'm sorry, Doctor."

He gave her a tight, mirthless smile and released her hand. "Yeah, well, like I said yesterday...it's never easy to lose people." Then, as if determined to change the subject, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Right...where's this cuppa? After my amazing display of salesmanship, I think I think I've earned it!"

There were a million questions Allie wanted to ask – no, more like a _hundred_ million, churning wildly through her head. But it was obvious he didn't want to discuss it any further, so with some difficulty she bit her tongue and let it go. "They're in back. Three sugars, just like I promised. Although how you can drink it like that, I'll never know."

He followed her back through the door and she handed him his tea. His eyebrows shot up instantly. "Where did you get this mug?"

"I bought it off a bloke named Larry at the Portobello Market," she said, a wave of alarm surging through her. "They were selling like hotcakes. Why? It's not one of these Rift artefacts, is it?"

"No, not at all. Good old Larry Nightingale!" the Doctor chortled, holding the mug up in front of his eyes. "Turns out he's a bit of an entrepreneur on the side! Who'd have thought!"

"You_ know_ him?"

"You'd be surprised at the people I know, Allie Castiel!" He took a huge swig of his tea. "Mmmmm... now _that's_ good tea! Put hairs on your chest, that would!"

"I hope not, since I'm drinking it too," she smiled, taking a sip from her own mug.

He leaned back on the bench, his long, lanky legs casually crossed at the ankles. "So, I've told you my deep, dark secrets. What about you then? What's your story?"

Allie doubted she'd even scratched the surface of his deep, dark secrets, but it didn't seem very polite to say so. She wrinkled her forehead, trying to decide how much to tell him.

"No real mystery here. It's all very boring. I'm twenty six years old. I live in a little flat about five minutes walk from here. My parents split up when I was a little kid. Dad remarried and lives on a farm in Shropshire. I don't see him very often, he's pretty busy with his new family. Mum travels all over, she pops in every now and then to say hi, mostly with a new boyfriend. I don't bother to remember their names any more, because she brings a different one every time she comes. My Aunt Vanessa brought me up, more or less. As soon as I finished my A-levels, I came to work with her here in the shop. Then, like I said, she died last week and left it to me, debts and all. That's about it, really."

It wasn't it, of course. There was a lot more she could have said, if she had wanted to. But she felt no guilt in keeping it to herself. If the Doctor could keep his secrets, she could keep hers.

"I had another friend with an Aunt Vanessa once," the Doctor said with a gloomy air. "It didn't end well for her either."

Allie raised her eyebrows at the conversational curveball. Whatever comment she had expected him to make, that hadn't been it. However, from what she could tell, the Doctor wasn't generally in the habit of doing what other people expected him to. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing – but it did take some getting used to. She wondered what had happened to his other friend's Aunt Vanessa, but wasn't sure she wanted to ask.

Catching her expression, he pulled a rueful face. "Oops, that was probably rude and insensitive, wasn't it? People are always telling me I'm rude and insensitive."

She laughed. "It's okay, I forgive you. Your turn in the confessional now. You said your planet was gone. Does that mean you live on Earth now?"

"Live here?" he snorted. "No chance! Most humans are very nice and all that, but living on a planet full of them... I don't think so. No, I travel around the Universe in my ship, the TARDIS, doing a bit of this and a bit of that. Seeing everything there is to see, that kind of thing."

"You have a ship?"

"Yeah. Looks like a blue police box. I've parked her outside."

Allie remembered the tall blue box she had seen earlier out on the footpath and the penny dropped. "That was your _ship_?" she gasped.

He nodded proudly. "Best ship in the Universe. We've been together a very long time."

"But...if you're travelling all over the Universe...doesn't it get a bit...cramped, in there?"

His face lit up with child-like glee, as if she had just asked the one question he loved to answer more than any other. "It's bigger on the inside."

Allie studied him carefully, trying to decide whether or not he was pulling her leg. "Bigger...on the inside...?"

"Ye-p!" He hesitated for a long moment, as if he was mentally wrestling with himself about something. Then he set down his mug decisively and said, "Why don't you come and see for yourself? I've been planning a short hop to Mars for quite a while. How about you come with me?"

"Me...come with you...to Mars," she echoed unsteadily.

"Why not? Very interesting place, Mars. Very dusty. Very...red. We can drop in, have a quick look around, then pop back here again for another cup of tea, if you want. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy."

Allie wanted to pinch herself. A couple of days ago, she had been an ordinary person living what probably would qualify as the most ordinary – no, not just ordinary, the most _boring_ – life in history. Now she had a bi-cardial alien with great hair and gorgeous brown eyes asking her to take a trip with him in his spaceship to see the planet Mars. There had to be a thousand reasons why this was an extremely bad idea. But right now, she couldn't think of a single one.

However, before she could answer, the bells on the exterior door jangled again, shattering the mood between them. A pair of heavy boots stomped across the wooden floor. Allie sighed crossly. If this was the police, they had _really_ poor timing. But it wasn't the police. It was much worse than that. Before either of them could react, the door into the shop burst open, and a stocky, well-muscled young man with short, blonde hair staggered inside. Allie's heart plummeted into her boots with dismay. It was none other than Two-Timing Terrence, the cheating, lowlife loser she had dumped nearly a year ago. Even worse, from the way he lurched into the room, it appeared he had been drinking. Allie felt her hands involuntarily curling into tight fists. What the _hell _was he doing here?

He looked around the room blearily until he located her standing with the Doctor in the kitchenette.

"Allie!" he exclaimed, in the lilting Irish accent she had once found so charming. Now, however, he was about the last person in the world she ever wanted to see again. He stumbled towards her, ignoring the Doctor completely. "There you are, my gorgeous girl!"

"What do you want, Terry?" she snapped icily.

"Aw, please don't be like that, sweetheart!" he entreated. "Not when I've come to tell you I'm sorry. I made a terrible mistake. I've come to beg you to take me back."

"You're drunk!" she retorted in disgust.

"Not so drunk that I don't know what I threw away! I need you, Allie!"

To Allie's utter mortification, her inebriated ex threw himself to his knees in front of her and grabbed for her hand. His fingers felt hot and sweaty and extremely unpleasant, a total contrast to the Doctor's cool, firm grip.

"Allie Castiel," he proclaimed loudly, punctuating his declaration with a loud and resonant belch. "I'm asking you...no, I'm begging you...will you make me the happiest man in the world by becoming my wife?"

Allie could quite happily have died on the spot. This would have been embarrassing enough if it had happened while she was here on her own. But for it to happen in front of the Doctor... Scarlet with humiliation, she tried to pull her hand away, but Terrence clung on as tightly as a limpet, staring up at her imploringly.

"Um..." the Doctor said, his face suddenly blank. To Allie's horror, she realised he was edging towards the door. "Yeah, probably a bad idea, after all. Thanks for the tea. I can see you've already got your hands full here, so I'd better be on my way."

"No, wait..." she cried, trying to disentangle herself from Terrence the Two-Timing Octopus.

Standing at the door, the Doctor looked back and gave her a wistful smile. "Goodbye, Allie Castiel. It was nice meeting you."

Then, just like that, he was gone. Frantically, Allie redoubled her efforts to get free, but Terrence only held on even tighter.

"Who was that?" he demanded jealously. "Was that your new bloke?"

The bells on the exterior door jangled as the Doctor left and Allie's temper finally boiled over. "Oooooh, you... you IDIOT!" she yelled furiously.

Pulling back her small fist, she punched Terrence with all her strength, letting him have exactly what he deserved, square on the nose. Squealing like a girl, he abruptly released her, his hands automatically flying up to staunch the blood that was pouring from his nostrils. Cradling her aching fist, Allie didn't stop to see how much damage she had done. She was already running through the shop, calling the Doctor's name. His coat was gone from the deer head on the wall, and through the blur of the plate glass in the front window, she could indistinctly make out a tall, tan-coloured blur crossing the road. She sprinted across to the outer door and tore it open.

"DOCTOR! WAIT!"

But all that was left was the swirl of his coat tails as he vanished inside the tall, blue police box on the corner. Almost instantly, there was a strange wheezing, groaning noise and the police box began to fade in and out, until it became nothing more than a faint blue smudge which disappeared into thin air, taking the Doctor with it. To go to Mars, to travel the Universe. Without her.

Allie wrapped her arms around herself in comfort, frustrated tears of disappointment trickling down her face. All she could think about was that, this time, the Doctor had said goodbye. And there had been no mention of him ever seeing her again.

"You all right, dear?" asked a sugar-sweet voice. Looking around, buried in misery, she saw the highly unwelcome sight of Mrs Neeson tripping down the street towards her. "I just wanted to tell you that I've decided to buy that terracotta warrior after all. He should look splendid in my entrance hall. Like your young man said, one should never pass up the opportunity of a lifetime."

"He's not my young man," Allie responded dully, glancing back to the place where the TARDIS had so recently disappeared. "And I think that's exactly what I just did."

* * *

_**Another Author's Note:**_

_**Just a bit of trivia for you, the Third Doctor drank tea with four sugars, the Ninth Doctor drank it with two. So I've decided that Ten would split the difference and drink it with three.**_

_**Also, in case you are not a fan of ClassicWho, the former friend with the aunt called Vanessa was Tegan, from the Fifth Doctor's era. Her Aunt Vanessa was killed by the Master, who used the Tissue Compression Eliminator on her.**_

_**Ciao for now!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **

**Thanks very much to all the supportive folks who reviewed since the last chapter was posted - MayFairy, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, Amber, Vincenth, Celestial Valkyrie, MountainLord-92, Son of Whitebeard, TheWickedHeart, BlackMoonWhiteSky, The Yoshinator, Loki'sTimeLady, irishartemis, EmmaMarie, Imorgen (x 2), Theta's Worst Nightmare and FullWolfMoonGirl.**

**To amber - Very glad I surprised you and very happy you enjoyed. Thanks so much for the review!**

**To Loki'sTimeLady - Lovely to hear from you and thanks for your compliments on my writing!**

**Here's the next chapter! Molto Bene!**

* * *

**- Chapter Four -**

"_Get out!_" Allie held the door wide, ignoring both the unwelcome blast of freezing air that gusted through into the little shop, and also the equally unwelcome Mrs Neeson hovering avidly in the background, unable to contain her prurient curiosity.

Terrence gave her an incredulous, accusing look, somewhat spoiled by the muffled effect of the blood-stained handkerchief held against his injured nose. "I think you broke my nose, you crazy bitch!" he said angrily, his voice sounding thick and snuffly, as though he had an extremely heavy cold. "I could do you for assault!"

Allie's eyes blazed in rage. "Just you try it, you miserable piece of scum! Because I'll be only too happy to tell the police about you coming into the private area of _my _shop uninvited, drunk out of your mind, and then grabbing me hard enough to leave bruises! Then we'll see who presses charges against who!"

"Spoil things between you and your new fella, did I?" Terrence sneered maliciously. "Did you a favour, I reckon. Never picked you to go for a skinny git in a suit, Allie, not your style at all."

"You don't know anything about me, Terry, and you never did," she sighed, all her anger draining away into sudden weariness. She didn't want to argue with him. The Doctor was gone – fighting with Terry wasn't going to change that. All she wanted now was for him to go away. "Why don't you just piss off and leave me alone? Go back home to Gillian and sober up!" Gillian Leigh was the bridesmaid Allie had caught him kissing the previous year. The two of them had been living together ever since Allie had broken her relationship off with him. "Unless she's come to her senses and chucked you out as well, of course."

He said nothing, patting gingerly at his swollen nose with the handkerchief, a furtive, almost guilty, look passing across his face. But Allie knew him too well and seized on it straight away. "Oh, she _has_, hasn't she? No wonder you turned up here, trying to get back in my good books! You've got nowhere to live, have you? What happened, did you cheat on her, as well?"

"Bloody women, you're all the same, you never know when you're on to a good thing!" he snarled defensively. "I'm the best you've ever had, Allie. You should be _happy_ I'm prepared to take you back!"

She shook her head, wondering sadly what she had ever seen in him. In light of everything she had experienced in the last couple of days, he seemed so commonplace now, so narrow-minded, so... boring. Even as she looked at him, she could still feel the incredible, unearthly sensation of the Doctor's second heart beating steadily under her hand. _I'm a Time Lord... the last Time Lord... I come from a planet a long, long way from Earth...I'm not human... _

"You'll never get it, will you, Terrence?" she asked softly. "There's a great big Universe out there, full of strange, amazing, _brilliant_ things... but you'll never see it, because all you'll ever care about is getting sloshed down the pub with your loser mates, and watching footy on the TV, and copping a quick feel whenever you can behind your girlfriend's back. I feel sorry for you. You're pathetic, you really are!" Then her voice hardened into cold, cutting stone. "Now _get out_ and don't ever come back. I don't ever want to see you again!"

Terrence stared at her blankly for a few seconds, as if unable to believe that she meant it. Then, when she held his gaze icily and didn't relent, he swore vilely and pushed violently past her through the door. Allie shrank away from him, afraid that he was angry enough to hit her. "Fine!" he spat into her face, just before he disappeared into the street, his whiskey-laden breath nearly making her choke. "You were always rubbish in bed anyway! Frigid little bitch!"

Trembling, Allie slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, her eyes closed and her knees sagging in relief, overwhelmingly glad that he was finally gone.

"Well, he was rather a rude young man, wasn't he?" a voice trilled nearby.

With a sinking sensation, Allie realised she had forgotten all about Mrs Neeson. Now that all the interesting action with Terrence was over, the elderly lady had crossed over to Charlie and was busily inspecting her prospective purchase from head to toe. "Yes, Mr Smith was quite right," she said happily. "The more I think about it, the more I realise this statue will look just divine in my entrance hall. What does this inscription mean, dear? Is it his name?"

Still very shaken from her encounter with Terrence, Allie wanted to scream at the woman to get out too, but somehow she managed to bite her tongue. The asking price for Charlie had been reduced several times over the two years since her aunt had bought him, in an effort to make him more saleable. Currently, it was set at £2,500, making him the most expensive item in the shop. If the Doctor really had talked Mrs Neeson into buying the statue, there was no way Allie could turn her back on that - not if she wanted the shop to remain financially viable, anyway.

Forcing herself to make an effort, she walked over to where Mrs Neeson was indicating some tiny writing etched into Charlie's forehead. Bending closer, she saw that the miniature letters formed the word "EMET".

_Odd_, she thought with a puzzled frown. _I wonder why I never noticed that before?_

* * *

The TARDIS materialised slowly on a rocky hillside, the light on top rhythmically flashing like a warning beacon. Shortly thereafter, the doors creaked open and the Doctor emerged, dressed in an orange spacesuit. Looking around, he took in the scarlet, alien landscape, glaring harshly in the dawn light, wreathed in passing mist.

"The Red Planet!" he said in quiet pleasure at the spectacular sight. Mars hadn't changed much since he'd been there last. Just as he had told Allie, it was still red and still dusty. He wondered what she would have made of it, heading off in a spacesuit at his side to explore a planet she had only ever heard about, but never in a million years expected to see. Despite his best intentions, he found himself imagining the awe and the wonder that would have reflected in her expressive grey eyes. But then he resolutely shut the thought of her out of his head. _The companion that never was. _He had done the right thing, he knew that. For one, dangerous moment he had wavered, had convinced himself that this time it would be different, that he could take her with him and still keep her safe from harm. But Terry's unexpected arrival had changed all that, pointedly reminding him that she already had a whole, entire life, back on Earth. She had her own home and her little shop. Perhaps even a boyfriend, if she and her Terry had the chance to work things out. And he had no right to interfere in any of that.

His hearts heavy, he stepped out on to the dusty, red surface of Mars and began walking alone into the rising sun.

* * *

Allie closed the shop early. It was Friday night and she had been planning on joining two of her old school friends on a girl's night out. She didn't much feel like it now, but she had already bailed on them twice previously and she didn't think they would accept any more of her excuses. Besides, she told herself, a few drinks and some social interaction would probably be good for her. She had been turning into a bit of a hermit over the last few weeks.

As she locked up, she kept looking over her shoulder at Charlie, trying to picture how the shop would look with him gone. He had stood in that same spot for so long now, the idea was almost incomprehensible. But Mrs Neeson had paid over the required £2,500 and the couriers were scheduled to pick him up early tomorrow afternoon.

"I'm going to miss you, you big lump!" she said mournfully, patting him on the head, just as she always did when she left the shop. "Who will I have to talk to when you're gone? I just wish you were going to a nicer home than that old hag."

Her gaze fell to the tiny inscription engraved in his forehead, wondering again however she could have missed it before. Surely she would have noticed it at some point in the two years since her aunt had purchased him. It really was a bit of a mystery. _EMET_. She had no idea what it meant. Was it his name, as Mrs Neeson had suggested? It seemed like a pretty silly name for a Chinese warrior. But then again, when you came to think of it, 'Charlie' probably wasn't all that appropriate either.

"Still, you look much more like a 'Charlie' than an 'Emet'!" she told him, running her fingers lightly over the engraved letters. To her surprise, they felt oddly warm - much warmer than the cold ceramic clay that made up the rest of the statue. Unnerved, she snatched her hand away. Charlie stared straight ahead, as silent and as inscrutable as ever.

Allie gave a shaky laugh, annoyed at herself. This was the Doctor's fault, making her see mysteries where there were none. So what if she'd missed the stupid inscription? That wasn't a big deal, it could happen to anyone. And it wasn't as if Charlie had come from Africa, or Mexico, or even Cardiff, where the Doctor said those Rift things were. She was just jumping at shadows.

She reached for her coat, turned on the alarm system and switched out the lights. "See you in the morning, Charlie!" she said brightly, refusing to let her own silly apprehension get to her. "Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite!"

Stepping out into the white, snowy afternoon, she pulled the door firmly shut and walked briskly away.

Behind her, hidden in the darkness of the shop, two red eyes glowed like burning coals.

* * *

Far away in time and space, the Doctor strode away from Bowie Base One, his face twisted in helpless anguish as the screams of the dying crew rang in his ears through the comm-unit in his helmet.

_It's a fixed point in time, it has to happen this way, _he kept on telling himself, over and over again, pain lancing through both his hearts. _I can't help them. I have to leave. I CAN'T HELP THEM!_

But with every step he took, with every scream he heard, the words inside his head began to sound more and more hollow, more and more like empty excuses.

All at once, an enormous explosion ripped through the base, hurling burning debris high into the thin, airless atmosphere. The devastating impact of the blast threw the Doctor to the ground, fire raining all around him. Struggling to sit up, he looked back at the ruined shambles that had once been Captain Adelaide Brooke's pride and joy.

Nurse Yuri Kerenski's voice came over the comms, wild with fear: "We're losing oxygen! THE HULL IS BROKEN!"

_He was a Time Lord. It was his duty to uphold the Laws of Time – that's what he'd sworn to, all those years ago back on Gallifrey, as an eight-year old initiate to the Academy. And now the weight of that duty rested even more heavily on his shoulders, because he was the only one left. The only one, out of so many..._

His mind flashed back to his recent conversation with Allie.

"_What happened to your people?"_

"_There was a war. They died."_

"_I'm so sorry, Doctor."_

"_Yeah, well, it's never easy to lose people..."_

They died. They all died. All their rules and regulations hadn't been enough to save them. Even _he_ hadn't been enough to save them, in the end. He hadn't even been able to save the Master, the only other one left, the once-friend who had died out of spite in his arms, twisted and broken from his own hate, leaving him alone all over again.

Remembering, the bitter rage and grief and loneliness assailed him in a pitiless, inexorable wave, mingling in his head with the frantic screams over the comm-unit; it felt as if the waters of Mars were rising up inside him, to claw him down and choke him in their murky depths. He looked back at the inferno that had been Bowie Base One and, suddenly, his brown eyes glittered with steely, impassioned determination.

He couldn't save his own people, he couldn't save the Master. But he _could_ save these humans. He was the last of the Time Lords, the Lonely God, the Oncoming Storm. He was the Time Lord Victorious – it was his choice. And this time, there was no-one to stop him or to hold him back.

No Rose, no Jack, no Martha, no Donna. No Allie. He could do anything he damn well wanted to do.

_The Law of Time are MINE, and they will obey me!_

Rising to his feet, his body tingling with dark purpose, he turned and grimly retraced his steps back to the burning Base.

* * *

Much to Allie's surprise, she enjoyed the night out with the girls. It was just what she needed to unwind. Some drinking, some dancing and a lot of girlish chatter. She'd had a good old complain about Terrence and managed to get a lot things off her chest – even if she couldn't talk about what was really bothering her. Their night had gone on much later than she had originally expected, extending well into the early hours of the morning, so she had ended up crashing on the sofa at her mate Glenda's flat.

Consequently, by the time she slipped home a few hours later and got changed, she was rather late and somewhat hung over when she arrived at the shop the next day. She had been tempted not to bother opening up at all, but she was expecting the couriers to arrive to pick up Charlie. Besides, sometimes customers wandered down from the High Street on Saturday morning, and she couldn't really afford to lose the trade. Although, she thought wryly, looking at the weather, given that it was still snowing, it was probably going to be a big, old waste of her time.

Strangely, when she opened the shop door, she found that the alarm system was already off. She could have sworn she remembered turning it on the night before. It wasn't the most sophisticated of systems, being activated by a simple delayed-action switch located behind the counter, without even the benefit of a coded keypad. But it wasn't a particularly high-crime area and, up until now, it had always provided her with more than sufficient peace of mind.

Grabbing a handy antique cricket bat as a weapon, she cautiously explored the rest of the premises, only to find everything undisturbed and exactly as she had left it. _Had_ she simply forgotten to turn the system on? She had never done that before... but it had been a weird week and she had been a bit rattled by Charlie just before she left.

Usually, she sang out a cheerful greeting to the terracotta warrior every time she entered the shop. It was a silly habit she had gotten into since he had become a permanent feature in the shop. But today, she felt awkward and restrained, as if Charlie, once so familiar and friendly, had become strange and a bit...unpleasant.

Crossing back to the front counter, she laid the cricket bat down on it and paused to stare at the statue. She frowned. His terracotta surface seemed unusually mottled, the pinky-brown colour of the baked clay quite dark in places. A little unwillingly, she put out a finger and touched it. The dark patches were damp. Somehow, in the night, Charlie had gotten himself wet.

With a groan, she looked up at the ceiling, expecting to see a big damp splotch on the plaster, signifying a leak in the roof. But the ceiling was white and unmarked, showing no traces of any telltale drips.

_It's snowing outside, _she thought absently, returning her eyes to the statue. _Those patches look just like the pattern melted snow would make. _Then she pulled herself up sharply, mentally berating herself for being a hysterical idiot. _Oh sure, that had to be it. Charlie got a bit restless, so he deactivated the alarm system and went for a stroll in the snow. God, I really am losing it!_

She was about to turn away from the statue in disgust, when the inscription in his forehead caught her eye. Did the writing look...bigger? Surely not. But it had been so tiny yesterday, almost microscopic. Now though, she no longer had to lean closely to read it.

_EMET_. The word sent chill of apprehension trickling down her spine and she took an instinctive step backwards.

At that moment, the bells over the exterior door jangled, the sharp, unexpected noise making her jump with fright. Two men walked into the shop, looking around as though they owned the place. The one in the lead was wearing a neat black coat over a charcoal-coloured suit, complete with a pristine white shirt and a striped tie. He had short, sandy hair and a hard, watchful face dominated by a pair of piercing pale blue eyes. The second man was wearing a brown suit and tie, and had greying hair and a weathered, pock-marked face with a calm, world-weary expression.

"Good morning," the first man said. "Are you Allison Castiel?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

The man pulled out a warrant card and flashed it at her. "I'm DCI William Bell of the Metropolitan Police. This is Detective Sergeant Cheweski. We need to ask you a few questions about a man named Terrence Milton."

Allie's fists clenched in anger as she realised what must have happened. That little _worm_! He'd gone ahead and pressed charges, just like he'd threatened!

"If you're here about the punch I gave him yesterday, that was in self-defence!" she said coldly. "He grabbed me first and wouldn't let me go. I've got the bruises to prove it!"

DCI Bell gave her a grave, considering look. "I'm afraid, Miss Castiel, it's much more serious than that. We're pursuing a murder enquiry. Mr Milton was brutally killed yesterday evening and you were quite possibly the last one to see him alive."

* * *

_**Another Author's Note:**_

_**If anyone recognises my little cameo from another (excellent) show, I will give you a box of virtual cookies!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Here I am, back with another chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed since the previous one was posted: - Aietradaea (x 2), MayFairy, The Yoshinator, FullWolfMoonGirl, EmmaMarie, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, Celestial Valkyrie, SawManiac211, MountainLord-92, EDZEL2 (x 3), Son of Whitebeard, Imorgen (x 2) and Theta's Worst Nightmare.**_

_**Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, the cameos in the previous chapter were the two police officers, DCI Bell and DS Cheweski, who were from the excellent mini-series "State of Play", starring John Simm as a newspaper reporter. DCI Bell was played by Philip Glenister, who also played DCI Gene Hunt in "Life on Mars." Big box of virtual cookies to EDZEL2 who was the only one who got it (knew she would, being such a big John Simm fan!)**_

* * *

**- Chapter Five - **

"He was _murdered_?" Allie gasped, all the colour draining from her face in shock. "But...that doesn't make sense. Who would want to murder Terry?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," DCI Bell said. "An ex-girlfriend with a grudge, perhaps?"

His keen eyes never left her face, studying her acutely, like a bug in a specimen jar. Allie felt sickness rising in her stomach as it suddenly dawned on her what he was here for.

"Oh my God, you're talking about me," she whispered. "You can't seriously think I did it?"

Bell shrugged his shoulders, his expression impassive, giving nothing away. "You know the drill, Miss Castiel. We're investigating everyone with a motive. And, from what I've heard, you definitely have one of those. Where were you last night?"

"A _motive_? I broke up with Terry nearly a year ago. I hadn't even seen him in all of that time until yesterday. Why would I suddenly kill him?"

"I don't know – jealousy, spite, revenge...take your pick!" Bell suggested grimly. "But it's a bit of a coincidence that on the day he _does_ go to see you, he ends up dead, don't you think?"

Allie's eyes widened in disbelief. The shock was beginning to wear off now, and anger was taking its place. "That's exactly what it is – coincidence! I don't know what you've heard, but he came here to ask me to take him back, because his girlfriend, Gillian, had thrown him out. He was drunk and unpleasant and abusive. I said no, we had a bit of a row, and then he _left._ And I haven't seen him since, end of story."

Detective-Sergeant Cheweski scribbled a few notes in a small notebook, while Bell gave an audible sigh. "Look, Miss Castiel, the best way to clear all this up is for you to just answer the question, all right? Where were you last night?"

With an effort, Allie managed to control her rising indignation. They were only doing their jobs, after all. As Bell said, the easiest way to get rid of them was to tell them what she had been doing the previous night. Thank God she had decided to go out after all, instead of staying at home alone as she usually did. Now at least she had a cast iron alibi.

"I went out with friends. We went to some clubs, danced a bit, had a bit to drink, and then I stayed over with one of the other girls. Her name is Glenda MacIntosh. I can give you her contact details. We got in at about 2am, I think."

Bell nodded and she recited Glenda's address and telephone number to the silent DS Cheweski, who dutifully recorded it in his notebook.

"You didn't say, Inspector," she ventured, turning back to Bell. "How exactly did Terry die?"

"He'd been drinking heavily and was apparently sleeping it off in his car," Bell replied. "Someone broke into the vehicle at approximately 1am and battered him to death with some sort of blunt object. I'm afraid it wasn't a very pleasant way to go."

Allie turned her head aside, hot, painful tears stinging her eyes. Whatever Terry had ended up becoming, they had been close once. They had laughed together, made love together. At one point, they had even planned a future together. The idea of him dying in such a horrible, terrifying way was sickening, to say the least. No matter how much she had despised him, she would never have wished that on him.

"I'm sorry," Bell said awkwardly, seeing her distress. "Do you...need to sit down, or something?"

She shook her head, not wanting him to see how much he had shaken her. "I'm all right. Look, Inspector, the bottom line is that Terry was a jerk - a lying, untrustworthy, two-timing git. I was well and truly finished with him and I never wanted to see him again, I admit that. But that's no reason to kill someone."

Bell gave her a tight, sardonic smile, the first real expression she had seen on his stony face. "You'd be surprised, Miss Castiel. In my experience, many murders have been committed for a lot less."

Allie glared at him, resenting him more every minute. "Well, not by me!"

"Apparently not, if your alibi holds up," Bell conceded curtly. As if on cue, Detective Sergeant Cheweski shut his notebook with a snap and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. "Thank you for your time, Miss Castiel, that's all we need for now. We'll continue with our investigations. However, we may need to speak to you again. So, as they say in the classics, don't leave town."

She watched the two policemen leave, a touch of ironic hysteria welling up in her throat. _And where am I likely to go? _she wanted to ask bitterly. _Mars?_

As the door slammed, her eyes automatically slid sideways towards Charlie. Usually, at times like this, when a particularly annoying customer had just departed the store, she would address some sort of flippant remark to him, as a way to relieve her tension. But today the terracotta warrior's blank expression reminded her suddenly of Bell, full of hidden agendas. Without really being able to explain why, her gaze fell to the statue's hands. Charlie's arms were carved stiffly by his sides, as if he was standing to attention, the perfect warrior. But at the end of his flowing sleeves, his hands were clenched into fists. Very large, very powerful-looking fists. Allie swallowed hard. Had they been like that yesterday? She didn't think so, but after everything that that happened, she wasn't convinced she could trust her own memory any more.

Quickly, feeling nervous but not quite sure why, she retreated to the back of the shop, putting the sales counter between herself and Charlie. And that was where she stayed, behind the statue, but keeping it in plain view, until the couriers arrived to take him to Mrs Neeson.

The two men from the courier company were young and well-muscled and brash, their all-too-human zest for life filling the shop like a clean, fresh breeze, chasing away any elusive supernatural forebodings. They flirted with Allie and made her laugh as they efficiently wrapped Charlie in packing material, loaded him on to a small dolly and shifted him out to their truck. One of them, the bloke with curly, dark hair and mischievous green eyes, even asked for her phone number as she signed all the paperwork. She refused with a smile, but she couldn't deny that it felt good to be asked, even if he wasn't much more than a cheeky kid.

But once the two lads had gone, taking their vibrant energy with them, the unsettled, ominous feeling returned. She kept thinking of the awful way Terry had died, her imagination unwillingly filling in the gaps in what DCI Bell had told her. The empty space where Charlie had stood for so long seemed to yawn at her, as if it was trying to tell her something.

In the end, Allie decided she couldn't put up with it any more. She went into the back room and shuffled through the drawers of odds and ends, until she found the small object she was looking for, carelessly discarded many weeks ago. Then she pulled on her heavy, hooded coat, turned the 'Open' sign to 'Closed', locked all the doors, set the alarm and hurried out into the snow.

In her hand, she held the simple blue and white business card that had been enclosed with the mug she had bought at the Portobello Market.

It read: "Sparrow and Nightingale, Antiquarian Books and rare DVDs".

* * *

It took about half an hour on the train to get to Notting Hill, and then another fifteen minutes of trekking through the knee deep snow to get to the address on the card. By the time she finally arrived, Allie was freezing cold and doubting her own sanity. After Terrence's little performance yesterday at the shop, the Doctor hadn't been able to leave quickly enough. Surely it was going to come across as a bit needy and pathetic, trying to track him down through his friends like this. And he hadn't actually said he_ knew _Larry Nightingale, had he? He'd just made some sort of vague comment about knowing a lot of people. So she was probably completely wasting her time.

She hesitated outside the small bookshop, inwardly debating whether or not she should just walk away, and save herself a lot of embarrassment. But the hard, cold feeling of dread in her stomach wouldn't allow her to do it. There was something very wrong, she knew it. And the Doctor was the only one who might possibly have a clue what it was.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door and went inside. The narrow front room was cram-packed with shelves loaded down with old books and strange, esoteric-looking DVDs. The air was warm and cosy and had the comforting, musty smell of ancient paper. At the end of the room, a young man sat behind the sales counter, sorting through a tall pile of books. He had shaggy, blonde hair and enough stubble on his cheeks to suggest that he hadn't shaved for quite a few days. He was wearing a shabby red pullover. Allie recognised him easily enough as the man who had sold her the mug at the Portobello Market. There was no sign of any T-shirts or mugs in the shop, so she guessed it must be a sort of occasional sideline for him. There was also no sign of the "Sparrow" from "Sparrow and Nightingale", whoever he or she might be. Larry appeared to be running the shop alone, at least at the moment.

He glanced up as she entered, a look of surprise on his face, as if a customer had been the last thing he was expecting. Allie couldn't help wondering if the inclement weather had been affecting his trade as much as it had hers.

"Hi!" he said cheerfully. "Can I help you with something or are you happy to browse?"

She walked towards the counter. "Actually, yeah, I was hoping you could help me with something. My name is Allison Castiel. You probably don't remember me, but I bought a mug from you a few weeks ago at the Portobello Market."

His face fell almost comically and he gave her a worried look. "Oh nuts, there's nothing wrong with it, is there?"

"No, it's fine," she said reassuringly. "It's just...well, I want to talk to you about the slogan on it. 'The Angels Have The Phone Box'?"

This time, he leapt to his feet, a spark of anger lighting his eyes. "Oh, not this again! I suppose Derek sent you. Well, you can tell him I said to pull his head in! The entire egg-forum knows I thought of it first, so _tough, _I get the franchise!"

Allie blinked at him in confusion. "Um, no, I don't know anybody named Derek. And I certainly don't know anything about any egg-forum, whatever that is."

The anger faded from his face and he sat back down again, looking a little bit sheepish. "Sorry, I thought...never mind. So what did you want to know?"

"The thing is..." she said uncertainly. "The phone box...on the mug...I know who it belongs to. And I really need to contact him. Urgently. So I was hoping you might be able to help me."

His eyes widened. "You know the Doctor?"

"Yeah. Well, sort of. Well, not really," she said, her words falling over each other as she tried to explain in a way that wouldn't sound utterly mad. "He came into my shop a few days ago. There was this giant alien blowfly and he killed it. And then the next day, there was this alien bomb and he threw it into the pond in the park and blew it up. And then he left in his phone box, to go to Mars, I think. But now there's some other weird stuff happening – some really_ bad _weird stuff - and I really, really need to talk to him."

Larry stared at her for a long moment, and she tensed, afraid that he was about to ask if she was crazy. But instead, he let out his breath in a long whoosh of awe and said, "Wow, giant blowflies, alien bombs, going to Mars...you really do know the Doctor, don't you?"

"Yeah," she said in relief that he understood. "Can you tell me how to get hold of him?"

To her immense disappointment, he shook his head. "Nah, I only met him the once. Didn't even talk to him then. My girlfriend, Sally Sparrow, she had a bit more to do with him than I did, though."

"Can I speak to her then?"

He shook his head again. "Sorry, she's in Manchester this week for a book fair. I could try and call her mobile, but the reception's a bit dodgy where she is, I'm afraid. Not sure it would help, anyway. I don't reckon she knows how to contact him any more than I do."

Allie sighed deeply, all her hope ebbing away. As she had suspected, this was a dead end. "Never mind," she said dully, turning to leave. "Forget it. Thanks anyway."

"This weird stuff you're on about," Larry called after her. "It doesn't have anything to do with moving statues, does it?"

She froze on the spot, scarcely daring to breathe. How did he know? How had he guessed at the fear she had hardly even been able to articulate to herself? Slowly, she rotated around to face him. "What do you mean...moving statues?"

"Well, the stone angels, just like it says on the mug," Larry replied matter-of-factly. "That's how we got involved with the Doctor in the first place. They look like statues, until you take your eyes off them, and then they attack. But as soon as you look at them, they freeze into stone again. The perfect defence, the Doctor says. And if they touch you, you get sent back in time and space, and they consume all the potential energy from the life you would have lived. That's what happened to my sister, Kathy. She was touched by one of them in an old abandoned house called Wester Drumlins and got sent back to 1920. I never saw her again."

"Oh God," Allie breathed. "I'm so sorry."

Larry's round, open face tightened with remembered loss, but he shrugged heavily. "Yeah, me too. She left Sally a letter. She said she was happy. She had a home and a family, everything she ever wanted, so I suppose that was something. She was eighty seven when she eventually died. Sally's usually the only one I can talk to about Kathy. No-one else would believe me. They'd all think I was off my rocker."

Allie gave him a shaky smile. "Don't worry, I believe you. I might not have done before I met the Doctor, but now I don't think anything would surprise me."

He pulled out a chair from behind the counter and indicated that she should sit down. "So you_ have_ come across the Angels then? That's why you're here, right?" he asked intently.

Allie suddenly realised how tired she felt. Sitting down seemed like the best idea in the world. Walking over to the chair, she flopped down in it, her legs feeling weak and boneless. "Not exactly an Angel," she replied. "More a terracotta warrior." And she explained to him all about Charlie.

At the end of her recitation, a dubious frown creased Larry's brow. "So, you think this warrior statue had something to do with your ex being murdered?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud," she winced. "But yeah, it's just a feeling I can't shake. And that strange word just appearing on his head out of nowhere...EMET. Somehow I just know it's significant. I was hoping the Doctor would be able to tell me what it meant."

"It doesn't sound like the Angels," Larry pondered, his face a mask of concentration. "Except for the fact that we're talking moving statues, of course. I've never heard of the Angels physically killing someone. The Doctor said they needed to send people back in time in order to feed on their energy, so killing someone outright doesn't make sense. And that inscription doesn't ring any bells at all."

"And now Mrs Neeson has bought Charlie. What should I do? I'm scared, Larry, really scared. What if he's dangerous? Even if he's not an Angel, he could still be something similar. It was a long-shot coming here, I know, but I couldn't come up with any other way of contacting the Doctor."

"I don't think there's anything you _can_ do," Larry returned. "Not right now, anyway. You'll just have to sit tight and see what happens. Maybe you've got it all wrong and you're worried about nothing."

"Maybe," she said darkly. "And maybe not. Finding out about your Weeping Angels hasn't exactly reassured me."

A regretful look passed over his face. "I'm sorry I couldn't help more. I wish I knew how to find the Doctor, but I don't."

She smiled at him and got to her feet. "That's OK. It's actually been a relief to talk about it to someone who wouldn't immediately write me off as a raving lunatic. I couldn't tell the police about it. DCI Bell would just lock me up for wasting police time or something. So thanks for that, at least."

"Maybe the Doctor will come back anyway. If not..." He tore a scrap of paper from a newspaper resting on the counter and began scribbling on it. "Here," he said, offering it to her. "This is my mobile number. If you need me, if anything happens, give me a call."

She took it a little warily. "I'm not sure your Sally Sparrow would approve of that."

Larry grinned, and she couldn't help thinking that Sally was a lucky girl. He really did have a lovely smile. "When it comes to the Angels, and the Doctor, she'll understand, believe me," he promised confidently.

She slipped the little piece of paper into the pocket of her coat. "Thanks. Hopefully, I won't need to use it." She held out her hand to him. "See you, Larry. And thanks again."

He shook it solemnly. "See you, Allison. And you're welcome."

Leaving the warm haven of the bookshop behind her, she stepped back out into the snow, no nearer to finding the Doctor than when she had arrived.

_Where are you, Travelling Man? _she wondered wearily, drawing her coat closer around her body. _I need you._

* * *

The Doctor stood in the darkened TARDIS console room, his head bowed, his body motionless, his mind in anguished turmoil. In the far reaches of the time machine, the cloister bell was tolling mournfully; the slow, reverberating peals foretelling doom and disaster. Foretelling his imminent death.

CLANG.

"_The Laws of Time are mine and they will obey me!"_

CLANG.

"_I thought I was just a survivor, but I'm not. I'm the winner. That's who I am. The Time Lord Victorious." _

CLANG.

"_I don't care who you are. The Time Lord Victorious is WRONG!"_

CLANG.

_The flash of laser fire inside Adelaide's house; the echoing sound he would always now be able to hear inside his head; the chilling, sickening realisation of what his pride and arrogance had forced that brave woman to do. And then, Ood Sigma standing in the snow, calling to him, calling him back..._

"_I think your song must end soon... every song must end..."_

He'd gone too far. For just a few minutes of mindless insanity, he had become everything he hated, everything he'd fought against for centuries. Staring feverishly at his dim reflection in the gleaming surface of the console, he didn't see his own familiar face – instead, in his tortured imagination, he saw the Master looking mockingly back at him, taunting him with what he had so nearly become.

His death was coming for him. Ood Sigma was calling to him, which could only mean one thing. His song was ending_. _No matter how hard he ran, how hard he fought, everything he did just made it happen, just brought it closer and closer.

He raised his head and a single tear ran down his face. Perhaps it was time. After the terrible enormity of what he had just done, perhaps he should answer the call, face up to the inevitable and allow it to happen. _Sometimes a Time Lord lives for too long..._

But even as the thought entered his head, he pushed it away, his back straightening in characteristic, stubborn determination; he gritted his teeth and said defiantly, to himself, to Ood Sigma, to the Master, to anyone else who was listening, "NO."

He'd been running far too long to stop now. He was the last of the Time Lords. If he had to, he would outrun Death itself. Only, from now on, he wouldn't make the mistake of trying to do it on his own.

Ignoring the warning of the cloister bell, his hand reached for the de-materialisation lever and slammed it down hard.

* * *

Allie had another restless night. When she woke early on Sunday morning, she couldn't remember exactly what she had dreamed, only that her sleep had been haunted by jumbled images of the Doctor, Charlie, Mrs Neeson and Larry Nightingale. Heavy-eyed and unrefreshed, she tumbled into the shower, praying it would make her feel human again.

Standing under the hot, rejuvenating spray, she decided she would grab a quick bagel from the bakery below her flat and then go back to the shop. She didn't usually work on Sundays, but she didn't have anything else planned and she felt far too unsettled and strung out to sit around home all day doing nothing. There was always plenty of paperwork to be getting on with. Failing that, maybe she could use the internet for some detective work and try to track down the other friend the Doctor had mentioned. What was his name? Captain Jack Harkness? It would probably only lead to another dead end, but it was worth a shot.

Feeling a bit more hopeful, now that she had some sort of a plan, she got dressed and pulled on her coat. Accompanied by the church bells of St Mary's pealing through the still, frosty air, she headed off on the short walk to work.

She realised that something was wrong as soon as she opened the front door. There was no warning beep from the alarm. Instantly, the tiny hairs stood up on the back of her neck. The system was off again. But this time she knew with absolute certainty that she had turned it on when she left to go and see Larry the previous day.

_Don't panic_, she told herself, stepping warily into the room. _It could just be malfunctioning._

But at that moment, she saw something in the shadows that made her gasp aloud, her heart nearly stopping in fear. The place where Charlie had stood was no longer empty. The terracotta warrior was back, standing in exactly the same position he always had, as if he had never been moved at all. His stone eyes seemed to be fixed on her in an unholy glare. Numbly, she realised that - even at this distance - she could easily read the inscription on his forehead, the deeply engraved letters larger and clearer than ever.

Shaking with terror, she ran behind the counter and snatched up the phone. Pulling out the tiny slip of paper from her coat pocket, she dialled the number without even stopping to think. The phone rang a few times before someone picked up and a sleepy male voice mumbled, "Yeah?"

"Larry?" she said frantically. "Larry, it's Allison Castiel."

"Allison?" he repeated, sounding more alert. "What's wrong?"

"He's here! I just got to my shop and he's come back!"

"Who? The Doctor?"

"No, not the Doctor! Charlie! The statue I told you about!" she cried, the fear rising up to almost choke her. "The couriers took him away yesterday afternoon, but he's back again!"

There was a stunned silence and then Larry said, "You're kidding."

"I wish I was. The alarm system was off and he's here, standing in exactly the same spot. And the writing on his head is bigger!" she gabbled. "I don't know what to..."

At that moment, she heard a noise behind her. A heavy, methodical noise. Like a _footstep_.

With a chill, she realised that, in making the phone call to Larry, she had inadvertently turned her back on the statue. Whirling abruptly, she found herself looking into a pair of blazing red eyes, glowing like two hot coals. Paralysing horror swept over her like a tidal wave. She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could make a single sound, a stone hand grasped her around the throat and squeezed mercilessly.

Blackness engulfed her and the telephone receiver fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers. Like the pendulum of the grandfather clock, it swung back and forth in a lazy arc, Larry's tinny voice still echoing from it, uselessly calling her name.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Another quick update from me. However, after this, I really need to get back to the next chapter of "Falling Out Of The World", so that is my job for this weekend, LOL.**_

_**Anyway, thanks so much to the following lovely folks who made my week with their encouraging reviews: Celestial Valkyrie, Vincenth, MountainLord-92, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, TheWickedHeart, FullWolfMoonGirl, MayFairy, XxCupcakeAssassinxX, The Yoshinator, BlackMoonWhiteSky (x 2), Theta'sWorstNightmare, Ella Unlimited and EmmaMarie. **_

_**Hope you enjoy this chapter - molto bene!**_

* * *

**- Chapter Six -**

It was snowing when the Doctor left the TARDIS. Big, soft flakes that drifted lazily down from the leaden skies and settled on his hair and eyelashes and shushed gently over the shoulders of his long, brown coat.

For a moment, he hesitated in the doorway of the time machine. Usually, he loved snow. But now, when he saw it, all he could think about were the icy white drifts that had been banked up against Captain Adelaide Brooke's house the night she took her own life.

Ironic, that falling snow would now always make him remember the dry, shifting red dust of the planet Mars and the people who had died there.

Staring across the street at the little antique shop, he forced the memory to the back of his mind, locking it away with all the other things in his past that he couldn't bear to examine too closely. Instead, he tried to imagine what Allie would say when he showed her her first supernova. Despite his previous misgivings, a warm feeling of anticipation rose up inside him at the thought of having her company in the TARDIS. It was always brilliant, starting out with a new companion, especially one who had never been into space before. He had so much to show her, so much knowledge and experience to share. And in return, he got to see it all afresh, through her eyes – to experience the miraculous wonder of the Universe all over again, the sheer joy of it serving to keep his encroaching darkness at bay.

And this time, he would do it right. If he persuaded Allie to come with him, he wouldn't lose her, like he had lost all the others. He wouldn't distort and destroy her life. This time it would be different. He would protect her and keep her safe, no matter what it took.

In the distance, the tolling of a bell interrupted his musing, and his shoulders tensed, thinking the cloister bell had started up again. But then he recognised that the sound was a carillon of church bells ringing out across the city. With a twinge of dismay, he realised that meant it was a Sunday morning. His own words to Donna, spoken not all that long ago in the Library, flashed through his mind: _No, I never land on Sundays. Sundays are boring. _For once, it seemed he had broken his own rule.

His hearts sank. The snow-covered streets were almost deserted. Chances were, Allie was probably still tucked up in bed at home and he had no idea of her address. Of course, it would be easy enough to find out. The TARDIS computers were extremely efficient at that kind of thing. But he wasn't sure she would appreciate him doing that. Humans got a bit funny about their privacy sometimes.

But then the door of the shop caught his eye. It was halfway ajar, which seemed odd on such a cold day. Obviously someone was about. And, unless the shop was in the process of being burgled, that someone could only be Allie. Perhaps she was in the back room and the front door had blown open.

He wandered across the street, whistling tunelessly, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Despite his relaxed appearance, all his senses were on high alert, focused on the doorway of Allie's shop. He wasn't sure exactly what he would do if there were burglars inside, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. He was confident he'd think of something, he always did.

However, before he reached the door, there was a loud roar behind him as a motorcycle swept into the curb, fishtailing slightly in the snow. The rider was wearing a dark, featureless helmet, a black leather jacket and torn blue jeans. Jumping off the bike, he pulled off the concealing helmet, revealing a tangle of shaggy blonde hair and an anxious-looking, unshaven face.

"Larry Nightingale, as I live and breathe!" the Doctor exclaimed in unaffected delight. "Long time, no see! So how's the novelty mug business treating you?"

"Doctor! Thank God you're here!" Larry blurted out, hurrying towards him. "Is she all right?"

A premonition of disaster trickled down the back of the Doctor's neck. "Is who all right?"

"Allison Castiel! Have you seen her?"

"Allie?" the Doctor repeated, not liking the urgency in the other man's voice. "No, I haven't seen her. Why wouldn't she be all right? What's going on?"

"She was on the phone to me and something cut her off, in mid-sentence!" Larry said. "I think the statue may have got her."

"The statue? What sta- " Abruptly, he broke off. "Never mind, tell me later."

Quickly, he pushed the door of the shop fully open and burst inside. "Allie? ALLIE! It's the Doctor! Where are you?"

But he received no reply. The room was completely empty. Nothing had been disturbed and the only thing he could see missing was the big terracotta warrior that had stood beside the sales counter. He hurried forward. Allie's keys were on top of the counter – he recognised the yellow smiley keyring from when he had visited earlier. And a low, steady beeping noise was coming from the phone, where the abandoned receiver hung down nearly to the floor, dangling loosely on its cord. There was no sign of Allie anywhere.

Worry tore at him, as he thrust open the door into the back room, still hoping he would find her there, even though every instinct was telling him he wouldn't. A quick exploration soon proved that she was nowhere on the premises.

"It's happened to her too, hasn't it? She's been sent back into the past, like Kathy."

The Doctor whirled around, to find Larry standing behind him. The young man's eyes were wide with shock, his face taut with horror.

"I think you'd better tell me exactly what's been happening."

"It's my fault!" Larry replied, an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice. "She was scared, she came to me for help, but I didn't do anything. And now she's gone!"

The Doctor gripped him by the arm and gave him a vigorous shake. "Listen to me, Larry. If I'm going to help her, I need to know what it was she was scared of. Now, focus, and _tell_ me!"

"Right, right. Focus!" Larry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control his panic. "She came into my bookshop yesterday. She was terrified. She thought I might know how to contact you. There was this big statue, in her shop..."

"A terracotta warrior?" the Doctor cut in.

Larry nodded miserably. "Yeah, that's the one. Said she nicknamed it Charlie. Anyway, her ex-boyfriend got murdered the night before, and she had it in her head that the statue had something to do with it. She said she couldn't tell the police because they wouldn't believe her. She was worried something bad might happen, because she'd sold the statue to some old lady and the couriers had already taken it away. I told her all about the Weeping Angels and what happened to Kathy and Billy Shipton. And I gave her my mobile number, in case something else went wrong. Then this morning, I got a call from her, and she was having this huge panic attack, because the statue was back in the shop, as if it had never been away. Then the call cut out - she just stopped talking in mid-sentence, as if something had grabbed her. I jumped on the bike and came straight over."

Reaching into his pocket, the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and started scanning the area behind the sales counter. "No recent temporal disturbance. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't an Angel - it hasn't sent her back in time."

"D'you...d'you think there's a chance she's still alive then?" Larry ventured.

"Yeah, 'course there's a chance! We just have to find her, that's all!" the Doctor snapped, refusing to accept that he might have already lost Allie before they ever really began. Thinking back to both his previous visits to the shop, he gave a growl of frustration and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. "How could I have missed it? Why didn't I realise it wasn't an ordinary statue? I was standing here right next to it! Unless... it was somehow dormant."

"Allie said it had been in the shop for over two years, without a problem," Larry said helpfully.

Frowning, the Doctor began to pace back and forth, muttering frenetically to himself. "Two years, two years, two years. So what changed? What was different about the last few days?" Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks, realisation dawning in his eyes. "Oh, _of course_! I'm getting old and stupid! Not just stupid, exponentially more stupid! Stupid to the _power_ of stupid! It was the Rift energy! Countless molecules of Rift energy floating around the shop, oozing into the air out of those African artefacts!"

Larry looked at him blankly. "Rift energy?"

"Yeah, heaps of it, and whatever that statue really is, it just got an unexpected wake-up call from dormant to extremely active!" the Doctor said. "Did Allie say _anything_ else about Charlie? Anything that can help me identify what it really is? C'mon, Larry, this is important, _think_!"

"I don't..." Larry began, his face a picture of concentration. "No, wait! There _was_ something. A word. It suddenly appeared out of nowhere, she said, carved into the statue's head. At first it was tiny, but then it kept getting bigger and bigger."

"_WHAT WORD_?"

Larry screwed his eyes tightly shut in an effort to remember. "It was... it was... like, a name... starting with 'E'..." His voice trailed away and then his eyes sprang open triumphantly. "EMET! That was it!" Then all his elation fell away as he saw the grim expression on the Doctor's face. "Erm...that's not good, is it?"

"Good? It's about as far away from good as we're likely to get!" the Doctor answered. "We have to find out where those couriers took Charlie. Maybe we can trace him from there."

Larry leaned over and grabbed a piece of paper from a spike beside the cash register. "This help?"

The Doctor took it from him and grinned. It was a consignment note, made out to Mrs Janice Neeson, for delivery of one terracotta warrior, listing her full address.

"Oh, _yes_! You know what, Larry?" he said exuberantly. "Now I can see what Sally Sparrow likes about you! Come on, let's go!"

He ran back outside the shop, with Larry following close on his heels.

"But I only brought one helmet for the bike!" the young man protested.

"Never mind that!" the Doctor called back over his shoulder, as he sprinted past the bike and across the street towards the waiting TARDIS. "We'll take my motor! Allons-y!"

* * *

The first thing Allie saw when she opened her eyes was a dead body.

She had to admit, the 'opening her eyes' part was great, because it meant that, groggy as she was, she was still alive, something she hadn't been at all sure she would ever be again.

But the whole 'seeing the dead body' thing was not so great.

Mrs Neeson sat opposite her on a comfortable-looking couch. She looked as if she had just been about to indulge in a little snack. There was a cup and saucer on the small table in front of her, together with a small plate of biscuits. Allie felt a shiver up her spine at the macabre scenario – seated where she was, it was almost as if she had just sat down to have afternoon tea with the elderly lady. But even at first glance, it was more than apparent that Mrs Neeson would never have afternoon tea with anyone again. Her head had been twisted around at such an unnatural angle that it was almost back to front, her dull eyes staring unseeingly up at the ceiling.

Allie turned her face aside, her stomach heaving at the dreadful sight. She had seen dead people before – her own aunt, for instance, just over a week before. But Aunt Vanessa had looked relatively peaceful and serene. Mrs Neeson's twisted form looked ugly and grotesque.

_Keep calm, _she told herself, closing her eyes and drawing in long, deep breaths in an attempt to control her rising panic. _Unflappable, that's you. Unflappable Allie Castiel, the Doctor said so. Now's the time to prove it!_

Somehow, just thinking about the approval in the Doctor's warm brown eyes steadied her. From what she had gathered, he dealt with situations like this all the time. If he was here, he would know what to do. So, maybe, if she tried very hard to think like him, she could figure it out too. For a start, he wouldn't give up. He wouldn't sit here with his eyes tightly shut like a big baby. He would look around and try to get some idea of exactly what was going on. After all, you couldn't expect to arrive at a solution to a problem, unless you knew what the problem actually was.

Heartened by her own logic, she cracked open her eyes. Her wrists were tied tightly to the chair arms with some rope and she couldn't move, no matter how hard she tried. Her neck felt a little bit tender where Charlie had grabbed her, and her head was aching like a bitch, but otherwise she appeared to be unharmed. Fear clutched at her at the memory of the malevolent, blood-red eyes glaring at her back in the shop, the stone hands reaching for her throat. At the time, she had been sure that Charlie was about to strangle her to death. But instead, he had tightened his fingers on the base of her neck with surgical precision, rendering her unconscious instead, a great well of blackness swallowing her up even before she could scream.

_The Vulcan Nerve Pinch, _she told herself incredulously, gently flexing her aching neck muscles. _Like Spock does on 'Star Trek'. Who knew that would actually work?_

She had been talking to Larry Nightingale on the phone. A small spark of hope exploded in her chest. Larry understood about moving statues. Maybe he would guess what had happened. Maybe he would come to find her. But then the spark fizzled out as quickly as it had come. Larry was a nice guy and all, but she wasn't convinced he was knight-in-shining-armour material. And she couldn't afford to sit here waiting like a damsel in distress either, just on the off-chance that he might turn up. Somehow she had to sort this out herself.

Forcing herself to relax, she looked around the room, trying to take everything in at once. It was obviously somebody's living-room – the late Mrs Neeson's, she supposed. Everything was dim, with none of the electric lights switched on, the only illumination coming from the grey daylight seeping through the partially drawn curtains over the French doors at the end of the room. Nevertheless, Allie was still able to see that the small space was crowded almost to bursting with furniture and knick-knacks. Glancing around at the cluttered display, she found herself wondering sourly how many other antique store owners Mrs Neeson had made miserable, before recalling that the lady in question, however unpleasant, had been horribly murdered, and then feeling deeply guilty.

The air was cold, almost frosty. Allie could make out a fireplace to her left, but the fire had burnt right down into dusty, grey ash. Going by that, she guessed that the old lady had been dead for quite some time, probably since the previous day.

_Probably_ _since the couriers dropped Charlie off at her house, _she realised with another wave of horror.

Then, almost as if thinking his name had conjured him up, she picked out the dark figure standing motionless in the shadows.

Despite her resolve to be brave, a shudder wracked Allie's body as she imagined the statue creeping up behind Mrs Neeson as she enjoyed her afternoon tea and nearly wrenching her head from her body.

"Ch...Charlie," she quavered, licking her dry lips. "Charlie? Is that you?"

There was no answer, just the eerie sound of the wind blowing down the chimney. Allie could feel her heart pounding as if it wanted to leap out of her chest.

"Charlie, I know you're alive. I know you can move," she tried again. "Can you speak?"

Again, there was no reply or acknowledgement from the dark figure.

"I'm cold and I'm hungry, Charlie," she added, striving to keep her voice reasonable. "And I'm really scared. You killed Terry, didn't you? And you killed Mrs Neeson. Why did you do that?"

For a few moments, silence continued to reign, and she began to doubt whether the statue was capable of communicating at all. But then, with a suddenness that startled her, two fiery eyes blazed out at her from the darkness.

"Pro-tect," a dark, rusty voice intoned.

A tremor that was half fear and half excitement ran through her veins. "So you _can_ speak! Please, you have to tell me what this is all about."

"Pro-tect," he said again, slowly and deliberately. "Pro-tect."

Frustration hammered in her brain. "You keep saying that, but I don't understand!" she cried, her voice starting to rise. "What does it mean? Why have you brought me here? Are you going to kill me too? What exactly are you trying to protect?"

There was a heavy grinding noise, like stone being dragged across stone, as the statue's head turned to pin her with its red-hot gaze.

"Pro-tect..._you_."

* * *

**_Another Author's Note: Okay, so next chapter, the Doctor and Larry arrive on the scene and we find out exactly what Charlie is!_**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Thank you so much to the people who left me some feedback on the last chapter, you all inspired me to update as quickly as I could :)**_

_**So cheers to the following folks: Ginga no Yousei, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, DementorsKiss95, XxCupcakeAssassinxX, The Yoshinator, watergoddesskasey, MayFairy, MountainLord-92, Theta'sWorstNightmare, CrimsonDelight, TheWickedHeart, FullWolfMoonGirl, irishartemis, EmmaMarie, skidney, Son of Whitebeard, CommanderHawke667, VincentH, EDZEL2, ConfusedSoAmI, Ahsilaa and Imorgen (x 2).**_

* * *

**- CHAPTER SEVEN -**

Larry followed the Doctor into the TARDIS a little bit hesitantly. He wasn't surprised by the vast console room he saw when he entered, since he had been inside the Doctor's ship before. But the last time he had been here, he and Sally had been running from four Weeping Angels, desperate to escape their lethal touch. Sweat broke out on his skin. Just seeing the blue police box brought all the terror flooding back again. He still had regular nightmares about it, waking up screaming as those cold stone hands reached for him through the darkness. Sally never needed to ask what he had been dreaming about – she had enough night terrors of her own. Instead, she just cuddled him close until his heart rate settled back down again and his tortured breathing eased. Like a couple of frightened children, they always slept with a light on. They never discussed it, but both of them knew why... because sometimes the monsters are real.

"Larry? Are you all right?"

Distantly, he realised the Doctor had been speaking to him and he hadn't heard. "What?"

"I asked if you were all right?" the Doctor repeated. "You've gone a bit green around the gills."

Larry took a deep, steadying breath, silently telling himself to get a grip. Allison Castiel was either dead or in a hell of a lot of trouble. Now was not the time to go to pieces. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

The Doctor was racing around the console, flicking switches and pulling levers. "You might want to hold on to something. The TARDIS generally isn't very keen on short hops. She can get a bit temperamental."

Larry hurried up the ramp and wrapped his hands around one of the railings edging the console platform, only too willing to do what he had been told. He didn't entirely trust the TARDIS. The last time he had been inside, the time machine had de-materialised around him, leaving him and Sally encircled by a ring of Weeping Angels. Of course, it had all been part of the Doctor's plan to trick the creatures into looking at each other, thereby quantum-locking them in place forever. But he and Sally hadn't known that at the time. He would never forget the utter, helpless vulnerability he had felt as the TARDIS left them behind; the paralysing, stomach-churning fear, as they had huddled together, the Angels looming over them, their arms raised as if to pounce.

The crystal cylinder in the middle of the console began to oscillate back and forth with a peculiar grinding noise, just as it had back then. The entire room tilted and shook alarmingly, making Larry very glad of his handhold on the railing. Across from him, the Doctor was hanging on to the console like a limpet, one cream-coloured Converse up on the console to balance himself, with the nonchalance of one who had done it many times before.

Then there was a spectacular bump and everything went still. "We've arrived," the Doctor announced brightly. "Not the smoothest journey, I grant you, but a bit quicker than the bike."

He pressed a button on the control panel in front of him and a large screen on the wall sprang to life. Larry could see some bare, leafless tree branches and what appeared to be a narrow, snow-covered lawn.

"Exterior scanner," the Doctor explained. "Looks like we've landed in Mrs Neeson's back garden."

"Do you really think Allie might be here?" Larry asked.

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted. "But it seems like the best place to start looking."

He strode down the ramp, his long, brown coat swishing around his ankles, heading for the doors. Larry followed along behind him, wishing he could borrow some of the other man's confidence. No matter what the situation was, the Doctor always seemed to know exactly how to handle it. He wondered if the other man ever got scared, and then ruefully decided he probably didn't.

"Doctor, when I told you about the word on Charlie's head, you seemed to recognise it," he ventured. "What does it mean?"

"If you're right, and the word you saw was _emet, _in human terms it's an ancient Hebrew word, meaning 'truth'. In actual fact, it's a lot older than the Jewish language...a lot older than the Earth itself."

"Truth?" Larry echoed in bewilderment. "But that doesn't sound so bad."

"On its own, it isn't," the Doctor conceded grimly. "It's an activation word."

"For _what_?"

The Doctor's jaw tightened, his brown eyes bleak. "For a golem."

"A _golem_!" Larry exclaimed, with a nervous laugh. "You think Charlie's a golem? Like in 'Dungeons and Dragons'? No way! You're joking, right?"

"Allie's in a lot of danger. Do I look like I'm joking?"

Staring at the Doctor's stony face, Larry had to admit that he had never seen anyone look more serious. "A creature formed from clay and then brought to life, using magic? But...they're just a myth, aren't they?"

The Doctor paused just inside the TARDIS doors and gave him a sharp, penetrating look. "Some people might try to tell you that the Angels are a myth. What would you say to them?"

Larry swallowed hard as the realisation hit him for the first time. He had been so busy coming to terms with the existence of the Weeping Angels, he had never even considered the wider implications. Because if the Angels could exist, how many other so-called myths might be real? Vampires? Werewolves? Golems? He shuddered to think. Suddenly the world was a lot less safe than he had once believed it to be.

"Point taken. But...but you can't seriously believe in magic?"

The Doctor shook his head impatiently. "No, of course I don't. But it's all relative. As one of your famous human writers, Arthur C. Clarke, said: 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.' If you went back to the Stone Age and showed a bunch of cavemen a microwave oven, or a television set or a computer, they'd probably think you were magic too."

"But that's just science! Using a single word to animate a clay figure and make it serve you – how is that in any way possible without magic?"

"Not all science is based on mathematics," the Doctor replied. "There are certain species throughout the Universe, such as the Carrionites, who prefer to use linguistic technology, or word-based science. I don't pretend to understand it either, but it's pretty powerful stuff. The right word in the right place can be enough to reshape reality. And, throughout the ages, some of that knowledge has filtered back to Earth in various forms. Charlie isn't the first golem to show up in human history. And, unfortunately, he probably won't be the last. Which is all fascinating stuff, and great for a chat, but it isn't helping us find out what he's done with Allie. So, are you coming or not?"

"Right, yeah, 'course I am!" Larry retorted, a bit stung by the Doctor's curtness, only to find that he was talking to thin air. The Doctor had already disappeared outside.

When Larry poked his head cautiously out of the doors, he found the Time Lord was already a fair way ahead, traipsing determinedly through the ankle-deep snow towards the large period-style house at the end of the garden. Larry hurried to catch up. In one of the tall, bare trees, a robin chirruped softly to itself, the only sound to be heard in the still surroundings. The snow had stopped falling, but the air was frigid, with just a hint of a breeze that sliced right through his clothes to chill the skin beneath. Annoyingly, the cold didn't seem to trouble the Doctor at all, since he was pacing along without even a single shiver.

It was hard to tell what the garden ordinarily looked like in the summer. What he assumed to be flower beds and bushes, low walls and birth-baths, garden furniture and ornaments had all been transformed into a series of featureless, indistinguishable lumps by a heavy, white blanket of snow. Somehow the blankness of it all bothered Larry, although he couldn't have said why. Quickening his steps even further, he managed to rejoin the Doctor, just as the Time Lord reached the house.

It was obvious that Mrs Neeson was very well-off. The garden was long and narrow, but it was still very elegantly-proportioned. The house itself appeared to be a period-style property, two or three stories high, constructed of warm, red bricks. The back was almost fully-enclosed in a beautiful glass conservatory, which was probably surrounded by an outdoor paved area, under all the snow.

The Doctor tried the door leading into the conservatory. It was apparently locked, since it wouldn't budge, but it didn't stay that way for long. Without hesitation, the Doctor reached into his pocket and drew out a long, thin wand-like device. He pointed it at the door and the tip glowed blue, while emitting a high-pitched buzzing noise. To Larry's astonishment, the lock clicked and the door swung open. He looked around nervously, expecting someone to shout at them, or for an alarm to go off. But nothing happened.

"Wow," he said shakily. "You'd make one hell of a burglar."

"Nah, that's nothing," the Doctor replied with an unrepentant grin. "You should meet my friend, Lady Christina de Souza. She could pinch your underpants while you were wearing them and you'd be none the wiser." He glanced down at the device in his hand. "The sonic screwdriver is picking up some unusual energy patterns in the house. There's something in there that isn't human. Looks like we might just have struck jackpot."

* * *

Allie had got tired of trying to talk to Charlie. She had worn her voice almost down to nothing begging, pleading and threatening, but nothing seemed to do any good. After those first few words, he refused to respond at all, just standing there, watching her from the shadows, as if he truly was the ordinary statue she had first thought him to be. If it hadn't been for Mrs Neeson's twisted dead body sitting across from her, she might almost have been able to persuade herself that it was all a bad dream.

After that, she tried to loosen her bonds, but with the same lack of success. However he had managed it with those clay fingers, he had tied her much too tightly. Her back was already stiff from sitting in the same place for too long, and the ropes chafed her wrists. She hadn't managed to get around to getting that bagel from the bakery this morning and she regretted it badly now, as her stomach growled irritably for the fourth or fifth time. Her throat was dry with thirst and she would have killed for a glass of water.

Despite her best efforts to be brave, panic rose in her throat. Charlie said he wanted to protect her and - from what she could tell - he didn't seem to be threatening her with any kind of physical harm. But he wouldn't say what he was protecting her from, or why he had killed Terry and Mrs Neeson. And he showed no sign of letting her go any time soon. The worst part was, Allie wasn't convinced that a living statue properly understood what a human required to stay alive. Did Charlie realise that she needed food and drink? Not to mention the occasional toilet break to relieve herself. What if no-one came? What if she stayed here, trapped in this cold, dark room with a silent, psychotic statue and Mrs Neeson's slowly-putrefying corpse, sitting in her own bodily waste, until she died painfully and horribly of thirst? The chilling thought made her want to scream and scream uncontrollably, to somehow let out the fear festering inside her. But she had already tried that, yelling until her throat was raw, and clearly there was no-one to hear.

Someone had to come, didn't they? One of Mrs Neeson's relatives would miss her, surely, and come to see what had happened to her? Or even DCI Bell, chasing up his witness statements for Terry's drunken behaviour in her shop? The thought heartened her for a moment. The police would figure it out eventually, that was their job. But then her eyes slid sideways to Charlie's impassive stone face and all her hope vanished. Oh god, even if someone did come, Charlie would probably just kill them too. After all, who the hell would ever believe her that the statue was a murdering monster? Charlie would easily be able to pick off whoever turned up, before they even realised what was happening, and then there would be more bodies crowding this miserable little room.

Tears of despair welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. Then, just as she was about to give up altogether, she saw the door handle start to turn. Choking back her sobs, she gathered her voice, ready to shout a warning to whoever it was to run and run and never look back. But then the door creaked open and she saw the one person she had never thought to see again. It was the Doctor, still dressed in his long brown coat, his sonic screwdriver buzzing in his hand. Allie's joy and relief was so great she nearly passed out. She didn't think she had ever been so glad to see anybody in her life.

"Doctor!" she cried. "Watch out for Charlie!"

But the statue was already moving, much faster than Allie expected, charging lithely towards the newcomer through the shadows like a guided missile homing in on a target.

"DOCTOR!" she screamed, terrified that he was about to be slaughtered in front of her eyes.

But to her surprise, the Doctor whirled around and pointed directly at the oncoming statue, yelling loudly, "By the potency of my will and the compelling power of thy purpose, I name thee...GOLEM!"

Charlie screeched to a dead stop just inches from the Time Lord's outstretched hand, his entire body quivering and his red eyes blazing like live coals.

"That's better," the Doctor said, his hand still extended in front of him, as though he was holding the golem at bay through sheer force of will. "Hello there, I'm the Doctor. We haven't been properly introduced yet. You must be Charlie."

His voice was perfectly calm and reasonable, as if he was merely chatting to a new acquaintance in the street, but there was a tense edge to it that warned Allie that the danger was still far from over.

Without removing his eyes from Charlie's face, he asked, "Allie, are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" she answered tearfully. "But I couldn't find you and Terry's dead, and Mrs Neeson, and I have no idea what's going on."

"It's OK," the Doctor soothed. "I'm here now. Charlie and I are just going to have a little chat and we'll sort everything out."

Slowly, he lowered his hand. Charlie didn't move, but he looked like he wanted to, poised like a predator waiting to pounce.

"Now, golem, speak, I charge thee," the Doctor commanded, his tone ringing with authority. "Reveal unto me thy _emet._ What is thy truth?"

Allie found she was holding her breath, waiting to see what Charlie would do. She had no clue what the Doctor was talking about, with his strange, lilting, old-fashioned speech, but obviously the statue did. _Emet_ was the word written on his head. Somehow it had to be very significant.

"My...truth...is...to...protect," the statue replied in his slow, grating voice.

"Who are you charged to protect?" the Doctor asked.

"My...master."

"And who is your master?"

For a moment, there was silence, as if Charlie was refusing to answer. But the Doctor wasn't about to allow him to get away with that. "I have charged you to reveal unto me your truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," he said in a voice as hard and as sharp as a steel blade. "Who is your master?"

"Allison Castiel...is my master."

The shock was so great that Allie nearly cried out aloud. She hadn't even known it was possible for statues to come to life. How could this..._thing_...for one second consider her to be its master? But before a single sound of protest could pass her lips, a large, warm hand clapped over her mouth. Glancing up frantically, her heart pounding, she was astonished to see Larry Nightingale looking down at her, his finger raised to his lips in a gesture of silence. At the other end of the room, the French doors leading into the garden were slightly ajar, the curtains stirring in the cold breeze. She had been so busy concentrating on the Doctor's conversation with Charlie, she had completely missed Larry sneaking into the room. Once he saw that she was going to stay quiet, he slid his hand from her mouth and produced a Swiss Army knife from his pocket. Quietly flipping out the blade, he began sawing away at the ropes that bound her to the chair.

"What is your purpose?" the Doctor was asking, keeping the statue's attention centred on him. "What are you protecting Allison Castiel from? Why have you brought her here?"

"My...purpose..is to...protect her...from all...harm," Charlie rasped. "I...will...safeguard her...from humanity."

The Doctor frowned. "From humanity? Why? What does that mean?"

"All humans...carry the seed...of violence...within their hearts," the golem said steadily. "This...I...have...seen. All humans...are a threat...to Allison Castiel. All humans...must be...eliminated."

At that moment, Larry managed to cut through the final rope and he put his hand under Allie's elbow to help her to her feet. But she had been in the same position for so long that her legs had gone to sleep and she couldn't help letting out an involuntary gasp as her knees buckled under her.

The sound was tiny, almost inaudible. But it was enough to make Charlie turn. The golem's fiery eyes blazed as he saw Larry holding Allison's arm firmly in one hand, the naked blade of the knife in the other.

"NO!" the Doctor shouted in alarm. "WAIT!"

But it was too late. The spell holding Charlie had been broken. Like an incarnation of Death itself, the golem whirled away from the Doctor and ran smoothly towards Larry, his hands poised to rend, crush and destroy.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: **_

_**Thanks very much to the lovely people who took the time to review. Your feedback is always so encouraging :)**_

_**So big hugs to: MayFairy, Vincenth, MountainLord-92, CallingTheMaker, The Yoshinator, CelestialValkyrie, Raingirlkm, XxCupcakeAssassinxX, EmmaMarie,CrimsonDelight, HydeAndSeek, skidney, EDZEL2, KlinicallyInsaneKoschei, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, silentnightDW, ConfusedSoAmI, Theta'sWorstNightmare, TheWickedHeart and Son of Whitebeard.**_

_**To silentnightDW: Yeah, now that Charlie's been activated, it won't be easy for Allie to get rid of him. And Larry is great, isn't he? He definitely needed a bigger part in canon. Thanks so much for the review. Hope you enjoy this one as well :)  
**_

* * *

- **CHAPTER EIGHT** -

Allie didn't have time to think, she only had time to react. Later, she wondered if, had she been able to consider the situation properly, she might have been far too scared to do what she did. As it was, the only thought in her mind was the terrible danger Larry was in.

Before Charlie could reach them, she flung herself in the path of the golem's deadly charge, her arms spread wide, forming a human shield in front of Larry.

"Stop!" she yelled. "You said I'm your master, so I command you to stop! Larry's my friend, you're not to harm him!"

To her utter relief, the golem pulled up short, standing almost face to face with her. Allie's fear was so great that she almost stopped breathing. There was no doubt about it, Charlie had increased in size. This close, he was taller than she was, his red eyes smouldering like embers as they bored into hers. She could hardly believe this unearthly creature was the same comfortable statue that had kept her company during the long, boring hours in the shop.

"Friend?" he echoed. "What is _friend_?"

A tendril of hope unfurled inside her. Perhaps she could make him understand after all. Perhaps if she explained, he would let them all go and no-one else would be hurt. "A friend is someone you know and care about," she said urgently. "Someone you trust! I care about Larry and I trust him!"

For a few seconds, the golem was silent, and Allie began to think she might have reached him and this nightmare would all be over. But then his eyes glared brighter than ever, as though a fire was blazing out of control inside his head. "Friends...betray!" he said harshly. "Friends...kill! This I have seen. Friends...are a threat to Allison Castiel. All friends must be eliminated."

With that, he brushed her roughly aside, consumed with the single-minded determination to get to his quarry. Allie struggled with all her might to stay upright, desperate to keep herself between him and Larry, but it was like wrestling with a brick wall. Charlie swatted her aside with no effort at all, sending her tumbling to the carpeted floor, dazed but unharmed. From there, everything seemed to descend into confusion. A screaming, high-pitched noise suddenly tore through the air like a hail of razor blades. The sound was so intense that Allie felt as though her ears were bleeding inside. Like an enraged bull, Charlie swung around, instinctively searching for the source of the piercing uproar, wanting to find it and destroy it.

Dimly, Allie could hear the Doctor's voice, shouting Larry's name and telling him to run. Then the Time Lord was beside her, tugging her to her feet. Charlie charged at them, but the Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver, the blue tip glowing. Belatedly, Allie realised that the hideous noise was emanating from the slender device. Momentarily confused by the wall of sound, the golem fell back, just long enough for the Doctor to seize Allie's hand and to sprint towards the French doors leading out into the garden. Larry was just in front of them, making the most of his reprieve and running like the wind.

Allie ran faster than she ever had before, forcing herself to keep up with the Doctor's long-legged stride. Her breathing was rasping madly in and out, her throat burning as if it was on fire, and her heart was pounding fit to burst. It had been cold enough inside the house, but the frigid air outside hit her like a slap in the face as they burst out into the garden and pelted across the snow-covered lawn. It should have been terrifying – and it was, knowing that Charlie was right behind them - but somehow it was also exhilarating at the same time, the Doctor's hand tightly wound around hers, filling her with both confidence and comfort. In a weird way, running with him was almost like flying.

"The TARDIS!" he shouted. "If we can get there, we'll be safe!"

Just ahead, Allie could see Larry veering towards a small copse of trees at the end of the garden. And there, showing through the bare, wintery branches, was the warm blue outline of the Doctor's police box.

Behind them, a long, ululating roar cut through the thin, frosty air. Risking a glance back over her shoulder, Allie realised that Charlie was standing in the open doorway to the house, his head thrown back, as though he was calling for something. The chilling thought sent shock waves curling down Allie's spine. Calling for _what?_

She didn't have long to wait for the answer. Even as the last echoes of the golem's call died away, scattered patches in the smooth carpet of snow began first to shift, as if something unspeakable stirred beneath, and then to bulge.

"RUN FASTER!" the Doctor urged, pulling harder on her hand.

Even as he spoke, a dozen dark figures began emerging from the snow, unfolding themselves and slowly standing upright, as though they were being born from the earth. The shapes were rough, barely formed, almost clumsy and lumpen in appearance. Apart from having a head, two arms and two legs, they were hardly recognisable as humanoid. But they all had glowing red, sentient eyes. And they all began moving as one, converging on the three fugitives running through the garden.

"What are they?" Allie screamed.

"More golems!" the Doctor responded. "Charlie's been busy building an army!"

Up ahead, Larry had reached the TARDIS, but the doors wouldn't open, no matter how hard he shook them. Whirling around with his back to the police box, he stared wildly back the way he had come, his eyes wide as he saw the macabre figures bearing down on them.

"DOCTOR!" he yelled. "HURRY!"

Allie's strength was failing rapidly now and her legs were beginning to collapse beneath her. The golems were so close, she could hear them shuffling through the snow at her back, sense their misshapen hands reaching out to seize her. Knowing she couldn't go much further, she tried to tug her hand free of the Doctor's, wanting him to go on without her. However, he refused to let go. Drawing on some unknown, hidden reserve of energy, he put on one last extra spurt of speed, hauling her over the remaining stretch of ground separating the two of them from safety, somehow just managing to keep them ahead of their pursuers. There was a gleam of bright metal in his free hand, and she realised it was a key. There was nothing alien about it at all – it was just an ordinary Yale lock key, like the one she used to get into her own house. Without hesitation, the Doctor thrust it into the lock in the police box door and twisted it. The door swung open and Larry and Allie tumbled inside. The Doctor brought up the rear, wheeling around and slamming the doors shut, before engaging the dead lock.

There was a huge jolt from the outside and the entire TARDIS shuddered as the small army of golems tried to force their way inside.

"Blimey, that was a bit close for comfort!" the Doctor exclaimed, leaning his back against the doors and slowly sliding to the floor. Allie collapsed beside him, her eyes tightly closed in overwhelming relief, fighting to get her racing heart-rate back under control.

Larry was bent over double with his hands on his knees, sucking in great, ragged gasps of air. "They...can't...get in, can they?" he asked worriedly, as the ship shook violently once more.

"Of course not!" the Doctor retorted. "Genghis Khan and all his men couldn't get through those doors!"

Reassured more by the confident tone of his voice than by what he was actually saying, Allie gradually managed to calm down. And as the blinding rush of adrenaline began to recede and her breathing settled back into a more regular pattern, coherent thought started to filter back into her brain. _The blue police box...the shining key...the doors opening..._ The images flashed at her in a choppy, disjointed sequence, like a badly made film, as the realisation of where she was dawned on her. She was inside the Doctor's ship. The TARDIS, that was what he had said. She was inside the TARDIS.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked around. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but her first sight of the console room just about stole what was left of her breath away. His ship wasn't just bigger on the inside, as he had claimed. If anything, he had been understating it. It was _enormous_ on the inside. If it hadn't been for the terrifying army of living statues still audibly banging around outside, nothing would have stopped her from running out to make doubly sure they were truly inside that tall, narrow blue box. The room was circular, the walls an indescribable colour - not quite gold, and not quite bronze - studded with a myriad of small hexagonal indentations. Allie couldn't even begin to guess what the walls were made of. Spaceship design hadn't actually formed a large part of her A Levels. But she got the impression that it wasn't any usual sort of building material – somehow it looked organic, warm and alive, as if the ship had been grown rather than constructed. The six roof supports looked remarkably like intricately-twisted pieces of sea coral. And in the centre, on a raised metal mesh platform, a control console dominated the room, also circular in shape, and topped by a crystal column which reached the ceiling, inside which appeared to be a glowing green inner assembly of tubes. Even though the ship was stationary, the control room hummed with dynamic, vibrant energy, teeming with invisible possibilities and untold potential. The overall effect was alien in the extreme, an atmosphere like something out of a dream. Allie was sure she had ever seen anything so beautiful in her entire life.

"What do you think?" the Doctor asked.

With some difficulty, she tore her eyes away from the incredible sight, returning her awed gaze to where he sat beside her. He was watching her intently, an expectant expression on his face as he waited to hear what she would say.

"It's..._amazing!_" she whispered in a heart-felt voice. The word was completely insufficient to convey how she felt, but she couldn't describe it in any other way. The TARDIS was unique. Just as he was unique, she thought, staring into those warm, intelligent brown eyes. Surely there could be nothing else like either of them, the Doctor or the TARDIS, in the whole of the Universe.

Even though her words had been inadequate, she knew instantly that he understood, as if he had read her mind and knew everything about her. He smiled at her, that wonderful smile he had that lit up his face, the whole room, the space between them. "Welcome to the TARDIS, Allison Castiel."

_This is here, _she told herself, sudden joy welling inside her as she smiled back at him. _This is now. __I am here, with this extraordinary man, inside his alien spacecraft. This is one of those rare, perfect, golden moments to snatch and hold on to, to keep no matter what happens in the future._

* * *

It was always a telling moment for the Doctor – those initial seconds when a potential companion stepped fully into his world for the very first time. The TARDIS was his pride and joy, the only constant in his long, wandering life. Seeing how his companions reacted to her never failed to intrigue him, no matter how dire the circumstances. Often, that first instinctive gut-reaction told him volumes about the people he came in contact with.

_Amazing, _she had said. It was a word he usually disliked. Amongst humans, it was trite, cliched and horribly over-used. It was the same word they used in TV commercials when describing a vacuum cleaner with out-standing suction; or by air-headed teenage girls trying to impress each other with how wonderful their boyfriends were; or by office workers around a water cooler on a Monday morning, chatting about an enjoyable weekend trip to the seaside.

But Allie didn't mean it in that way at all. One look into her wide, candid grey eyes soon proved to him that she meant it in the true and absolute sense of the word. Despite the tension and stress of the last few hours, the magic of the TARDIS had captured her as soon as she entered.

And in those tiny few seconds when he saw the unalloyed joy and wonder shining in her eyes, he knew that he had been right to come back for Allison Castiel. No matter how far and how fast they had to run to escape his impending death, it would all be worth it.

All he had to do first was to sort out the small army of golems following her all over London and then they would be home free. Simple.

"Right," he said, levering himself to his feet. "Let's get cracking!" He pulled off his damp coat and tossed it over one of the coral roof supports, before hurrying up the ramp to the console platform.

"Where are we going?" Larry asked, forcing himself to straighten up.

"Somewhere I can think without all that racket going on," the Doctor answered, as the banging on the outside of the TARDIS got even louder.

"But... we can't just leave!" Allie protested, climbing shakily to her feet and following him up on to the platform. "Charlie's killed people. We can't just leave him loose to do whatever he wants. Who knows what he'll do next, or where he'll go!"

"Oh, I know exactly where he'll go," the Doctor replied in a calm voice, flipping some switches and re-setting the navigational co-ordinates.

She stared at him. "Where?"

"Wherever you are," he told her bluntly. Then, seeing from her blank expression that she still didn't understand, he added more gently, "Allie, Charlie's a golem. He's a clay figure, artificially endowed with a charge of life energy. Basically, he's a tool, a weapon, with a specific purpose - nothing but a mindless, soulless construct. He exists for one reason only, to follow orders literally and unrelentingly. You can't reason with a golem and you can't bargain with them. He will fulfil his purpose, his _emet_, or die trying."

Allie sat down abruptly on one of the yellow jump seats facing the console, as if her legs would no longer hold her up. "And...his purpose...is to protect _me_?"

The Doctor nodded. "Apparently so. You could travel to the other side of the world, and he would still find you, wherever you hid. He won't stop, or give up, no matter what. He doesn't need food or air or sleep. He can withstand any kind of environment. And human weapons are completely useless against him."

"But _why?_ Why me? I don't understand any of this. I don't know anything about golems. I've never even heard of them before!"

"You've obviously never played 'Dungeons and Dragons'," Larry commented, seating himself beside her on the other jump seat.

"No, actually, as it happens, I haven't," she said tartly. "My bad! When I was a teenager, I was more into playing 'Doctors and Nurses', if you know what I mean. 'Dungeons and Dragons' never quite made it on to my radar! And even if he is a golem, why would Charlie suddenly come alive after two years and decide that I'm his master?"

"He was dormant. The Rift energy contained in those artefacts from Africa must have woken him," the Doctor explained. "I'm guessing you were the first thing he saw when he woke, and he's imprinted on you, like a newborn chick emerging from its egg. His original _emet_ was to protect his master and he now thinks that's you."

Horrified, ashen realisation crept across her face. "Oh my God, then it's my fault, isn't it? I'm the reason that Terry and Mrs Neeson are dead. That thing killed them because of me. And he tried to kill you and Larry. I'm like some sort of walking Jonah. Everyone I come into contact with is in danger!"

"It's not your fault, Allie!" the Doctor said sharply. He recognised that look only too well – he had seen it staring back at him from the mirror too many times to mistake it. It was survivor's guilt, that terrible, twisting feeling of self-blame you got because you were alive and other people weren't. He'd carried a heavy load of it in his own life for such a long time now, and the last thing he ever wanted was for any similar pain and regret to fall on Allie's slight shoulders. "You had no way of knowing any of this was going to happen! But you're right, we do need to stop him. Somewhere along the line, his purpose has become twisted, and he believes that everything human is a threat to you and must be destroyed. He's going to keep on killing single-mindedly until there are no humans left. And if he continues creating more golems like himself, until he has an army, that's a very real possibility. We need to find out exactly where he came from."

Allie bit her lip uncertainly. "My aunt bought him at an auction for a deceased estate," she said. "But I can't remember the name of the person he belonged to. I'd have all the relevant information back at the shop, though."

"Then hold on to your hats!" the Doctor exclaimed, slamming down the de-materialisation lever. "Because back to the shop we go!"


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note: Thank you very much to the following people for being kind enough to leave reviews - MayFairy, Vincenth, The Yoshinator, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, ConfusedSoAmI, Raingirlkm, MaluTyler, EmmaMarie, XxCupcakeAssassinxX, MountainLord-92, FullWolfMoonGirl, skidney, Son of Whitebeard, RandomCitizen (x 4), CallingTheMaker, JMichelleW, Imorgen (x 2), Scholar of Imagination and KatieTheBaka.**_

* * *

**- Chapter Nine - **

As soon as they arrived back at the shop, Allie began to shiver violently. She tried to stop, but she couldn't help it, deep bone-wracking shudders that shook her slender frame. Larry turned the heating up high, while the Doctor sat her down in an old rocking chair and wrapped her in a patchwork quilt he found in the window display.

"S...sorry," she mumbled, her teeth chattering madly. "I'm b...being an idiot."

"No, you're not. It's fine. It's just shock," the Doctor replied, crouching in front of her and stroking the hair out of her eyes in a comforting gesture. "The adrenaline's worn off and you're getting a delayed reaction."

She gave him a wobbly smile. "T...thanks. And thank you b...b...both. For c...coming to s...save me."

"All in a day's work for heroes like us, isn't that right, Larry?" the Doctor said buoyantly, glancing up to where the other man was leaning against the counter and giving him a grin.

"Yes. Right. Absolutely," Larry agreed. Allie couldn't help thinking that he had the slightly dazed look of someone who had been swept up by a whirlwind and dumped on an unfamiliar shore. A stab of guilt shot through her. Surely he had already been through enough, losing his sister to those Weeping Angels, without getting mixed up in her problems too. She wanted to apologise to him – to apologise to them both – for the mess she had gotten them into, but she didn't know what to say. It wasn't as if she knew how any of it had happened in the first place.

"You know what's good for shock? Tea!" the Doctor continued. "Tea with lots of sugar! Larry, how about you pop in the back and make some?"

Larry didn't argue with the suggestion. Instead, he seemed to be glad to be given a task that was both familiar and well within his abilities.

"Right, good idea," he said, and disappeared through the door into the back room with such alacrity that Allie had to wonder if he was used to Sally always telling him what to do.

As the door banged shut, the Doctor jumped to his feet. "Okay, time to get busy. Where do you keep your records, Allie?"

"There's a laptop under the c...counter. All Ch...Charlie's purchase details sh...should be on there." Allie pulled the quilt more tightly around herself, already missing the reassurance of the Time Lord's closeness. "D...Doctor, are we s...safe here? W...won't this b...be the f...first p...place Charlie will l...look for me?"

He pulled out the small silver laptop and flipped it open, propping it up on top of the counter. "Probably. But as soon as we're finished here, you and Larry are going straight back inside the TARDIS, where you'll be safe."

Allie glanced over at the corner of the room, where the police box sat, its worn blue exterior comfortably blending in with all the other various antiques and bric-a-brac in the shop, giving no clue to the wonders that lay within.

A small frown creased her brow. "Me and Larry? What about you?"

He tapped away at the keyboard without answering.

"Doctor?"

"Now, I'm no expert on the linguistic science used to animate a golem, so we need as much background information as we can get, to work out how to shut him down," he said, still ignoring her question. "Your aunt bought him two years ago, you said?"

"Yes, at an estate auction, in June or July, I think it was," she replied, relieved to find that her teeth were beginning to stop chattering. "Doctor, you're not planning to go up against those things on your own, are you?"

"If that's what it takes," he said flatly. Then, before she could argue further, he let out a jubilant cry. "AHA! Here it is! One reproduction terracotta warrior, purchased from the estate of Reuben Loew, in the village of Ditchling, on the South Downs, 17 June 2007. Of _course!_"

"Of course?" she queried. "Why, what does that tell us? Who's Reuben Loew? I've never heard of him before."

"Neither have I. But I _have_ heard of Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel. A famous scholar and Jewish mystic who lived in Prague in the 1500s. He was known as the Maharal. Back then, the Jews of Prague were being persecuted by the Holy Roman Emperor of the time, and were about to be either expelled from the city or killed. According to legend, the Maharal used rituals and incantations to create the first golem on Earth, to defend his people."

"Rituals and incantations? You mean, like...magic?"

The Doctor gave an audible sigh. "Like magic, but not magic. As I already explained to Larry, not all science is mathematically-based. There are some races in the Universe that use words rather than mathematical formula to alter reality. And I happen to know for certain that there were Carrionites on Earth at exactly that point in history. I suspect some of their linguistic technology must somehow have been passed on to humans such as the Maharal, who went on to use it for their own ends."

"So, you think Charlie's previous owner...this Reuben Loew... is a descendant of the original Rabbi, and used his family secret to create his own golem?"

"It makes sense as an explanation," the Doctor nodded.

As he spoke, the door into the back room opened and Larry backed carefully in, carrying a wooden tray with three mugs on it and a large bowl of sugar.

"But _why?_" Allie asked incredulously. "Why on Earth would he want to make something like that, to create a monster like some kind of modern day Dr Frankenstein? He must have been mad!"

The Doctor grabbed one of the mugs and began scooping in three generous helpings of sugar. He was about to absent-mindedly do the same for Allie's mug, but she quickly snatched it out of his reach.

"Not necessarily," he mused. "Not if he felt he needed protection for some reason. There's no better bodyguard in the Universe than a golem. And Charlie said his _emet_ was to protect his master. Before your aunt brought him here, his master must have been Reuben Loew. When Reuben died, Charlie's _emet _was no longer valid and he sank into dormancy. Until the Rift energy from those artefacts roused him and he imprinted on you instead."

"Reuben Loew?" Larry spoke up, taking a noisy slurp of his tea. Allie noticed with a small twinge of amusement that he had appropriated her "THE ANGELS HAVE THE PHONE BOX" mug for himself. "You mean that old Polish collaborator guy? The one that was a virtual recluse?"

Allie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You've heard of him?"

"Yeah," Larry replied, a bit defensively, as they both stared at him. "He got murdered a couple of years ago. It was in all the papers. I remember, because we'd just opened the shop, and Sally said we should go to the auction of his estate, because he was a real collector, and we might be able to pick up some rare books for our stock. The books are her speciality, you see. I'm more into the DVD side of things. Anyway, something came up and we never got around to it."

"He was murdered?" Allie repeated urgently. "By who?"

Larry gave a disinterested shrug. "Dunno. Don't think they ever found out. Is it important?"

"Could be, yeah," the Doctor responded, his fingers moving over the keyboard at the speed of light. Allie didn't think she'd ever seen anybody type that fast before. She watched in fascination, guessing it must be an alien thing. There was no doubt that the Doctor knew his way around computers, that was for sure. "Ah, here it is. Larry's right, all the major newspapers carried the story at the time, it's all here in the archives. Reuben Loew was eighty seven when he died. He moved here from Poland just after the war, bought an isolated property on the South Downs, and lived there alone, apart from one, single, trusted servant named Josef Manheim. Hardly anyone else ever saw him. He was fanatical about security, apparently."

"He would have to be, if he was going around building golem bodyguards," Allie said wryly. "So what happened to him?"

The Doctor pulled out his black-rimmed glasses and perched them on the end of his nose, concentrating closely on the small screen in front of him. "It says here that on the evening of 26 May 2007, the police responded to a silent alarm which had triggered in the house, only to find both Mr Loew and his manservant dead on the library floor. Oh, and_ this_ is interesting...'Subsequent investigations revealed that Mr Loew, although a Jew by birth, had been a well-known collaborator with the Nazis during the Second World War, performing the duties of a commandant in a forced-labor camp at Gorlitz, in what later became known as East Germany. There are indications, said a spokesperson from the Wiesenthal Center, that prisoners liberated from Gorlitz began hunting for Mr. Loew in Europe and overseas shortly after the war, seeking to bring him to justice for atrocities he had committed against his own people.'"

"See, that's what I said, a collaborator," Larry interjected. "From what I heard, he wasn't the nicest of blokes, did some really terrible, blood-curdling stuff during the War. I remember now...there was a rumour that he'd been targeted by some sort of Jewish vendetta group who were determined to catch up with escaped war criminals to make them pay for what they did. Scary lot, not the sort of people you'd want to have on your trail."

"Mmmm, an extremist splinter group known as the Sicarii, or 'the dagger men', according to the confidential police files," the Doctor confirmed. "A group of highly-trained assassins allegedly established in 1945 for the sole purpose of avenging the Holocaust. Nothing has ever been proven though."

"Confidential police files?" Allie put her mug down on the small table beside her with a sharp clack. "_What_ confidential police files? You can't go around hacking into police records, just like that!"

The Doctor flicked her a laughing look over the top of his glasses and her voice trailed away in embarrassment as she remembered who she was talking to.

He gave her a cheeky wink. "Of course I can," he returned unconcernedly. "Come on, Allie, keep up! I'm the Doctor! There's not much I can't do."

He dropped his eyes back to the keyboard and tapped some more keys. "So now at least we know why he was desperate enough to create Charlie. He was a war criminal, who'd been in hiding from a group of dedicated assassins for over fifty years. He must have been as paranoid as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

"It's not paranoia if someone's really after you," Allie corrected softly. "So Charlie was meant to protect him. Then what happened? If golems are the best bodyguards in the Universe, how did Reuben Loew get himself killed?"

"The one way from which Charlie couldn't protect him," the Doctor replied, his expression solemn. "Poison. Nicotine poisoning, to be precise. The autopsy result revealed an unusually large build up in his body. My guess is, someone injected a lethal dose for a human into one of his cigarettes, he smoked it, and then he dropped dead of heart failure."

Larry frowned and rubbed distractedly at the stubble on his chin. "But the murderer must have got really close to him to have access to his personal stuff - how could any intruder get past Charlie and into the house? Not to mention all the other security Reuben Loew would have had in place – dogs, alarms, whatever."

"He didn't. He was already there."

Allie's grey eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Friends betray. Friends kill. So that's what Charlie meant!"

"Oh my god," Larry said excitedly. "The butler did it. The butler with the poison in the library! Hang on a minute, though – he was killed as well, wasn't he?"

"Ye-p!" the Doctor nodded. "Which is why the police were forced to leave the case open. They suspected that he was the one who killed Loew, but they were never able to work out what happened next. They thought he might have had an accomplice who turned on him, but the locks and other forms of security were still in place, so no-one had left the house after the murders. And yet the autopsy reports show that Josef Manheim was brutally battered to death with a blunt instrument. They never found the murder weapon."

"Brutally battered to death," Allie echoed, her mind going back to her interview with DCI Bell. "Just like Terry was battered to death. Charlie killed Manheim, didn't he? In revenge for Manheim killing his master. No wonder the police never figured it out. Who would suspect a statue?"

"But why would Manheim kill his employer? If he had been with him for long enough to become a trusted friend, why suddenly up and murder him?" Larry asked.

"Good question." The Doctor snapped the lid of the laptop shut and whipped his glasses off, stowing them safely in his top pocket. "Maybe he was somehow recruited by these Sicarii. Maybe he only just discovered what his boss got up to during the War. Or maybe it was a personal grudge and had nothing to do with the War at all. We'll probably never know. The point is, Manheim betrayed Loew and killed him, and Charlie saw it all happen, but couldn't do anything to stop it. He'd failed his _emet_, his truth, his purpose, to protect his master. Loew was dying on the ground, so Charlie did the only thing he could do for him, which was to destroy his murderer. Then, when Loew finally died from the poison, Charlie's _emet _died with him. He lost all purpose and sank into dormancy. Until the Rift energy floating around Allie's shop woke him again and he fixated on her as his new master. But somehow Loew's murder has twisted Charlie's interpretation of his _emet_. Now he thinks he has to protect Allie from the rest of humanity, so she doesn't end up like Loew."

Allie felt tears prickling her eyes, seeing it all unfolding in her mind's eye as he spoke. "That's so sad," she murmured.

"Why?" Larry asked, finishing his tea and putting his mug back on the tray. "If he really did do all that bad stuff during the War, I reckon Loew deserved all he got. Sounds like he was lucky to make it as far as eighty seven without being killed."

"I wasn't talking about Loew!" she snapped. "I was talking about Charlie. Seeing his master horribly killed like that by someone he trusted, and not being able to stop it. Feeling like he'd failed his only purpose in life. No wonder he's messed up."

"Don't waste your sympathy, Allie," the Doctor told her. "Charlie's not human, he's a golem. He's not even alive in the true sense. He has no feelings and no soul. He was created to be a tool, nothing more."

"Yeah, a tool that's killed at least three people that we know about," Larry added.

Allie sighed. "You don't need to remind me about that, I haven't forgotten. But it's still not his fault, is it? And he has a point about the potential for violence inside human beings. I mean, look at Loew and all the terrible things he did. He was the evil one, not Charlie. And it sounds like Manheim wasn't much better, whatever his motivation."

"Maybe not. But the fact remains, unless we stop him, Charlie will see every human being you interact with as a threat, and he will keep on killing," the Doctor said gravely. "Even worse, he seems to have got proactive. He's been creating more golems, inferior copies of himself, but still extremely dangerous. It looks like he's intending to wipe out the human race _before_ they have a chance to become a threat to you."

Larry scratched his head, a puzzled look on his face. "There's one thing I don't get, Doctor. If Allie's his master now, why can't she just tell Charlie to stop? Why did he disobey her back at the house when she told him not to attack me? I thought you said golems were all about obedience."

"They are. Charlie will obey everything Allie tells him to do, to the absolute letter._ Except_ when he believes her orders contradict his _emet_. The instruction to protect her overrides everything else."

Allie's throat tightened in dismay. "So I can tell him not to kill until I'm blue in the face, and it won't make a speck of difference, as long as he believes other people are an ongoing threat to me."

The Doctor nodded. "Exactly."

"So...so how are we going to stop him then?" she demanded. "We can, can't we? I mean, there has to be a way!"

"Oh yeah," he said calmly. "There's a way, all right. I'm going to have to resort to using my secret weapon."

Larry whooped and punched the air in delight like a small boy. "I knew it, a secret weapon! Gotta love a secret weapon! This is gonna be great! What is it? A plasma beam? A laser cannon? Some sort of alien energy blaster? Are we allowed to see it?"

"Okay," the Doctor agreed reluctantly. "I suppose so, just this once." He put his hand into his pocket and withdrew a long, slim canister. Larry was nearly dancing on the spot with anticipation as he held it up for them to inspect. "Here it is."

As soon as he saw what it was, Larry's jaw dropped in utter shock and Allie stared in bewilderment.

"Doctor," she said hesitantly, sure he had made some kind of mistake. "That's a can of Polyfilla."

She had never actually used the stuff, but she had seen the same sort of can a hundred times before, on television ads, on the shelves in hardware stores . Expanding foam Polyfilla, used for sealing and filling gaps in walls, prior to sanding and painting. Nothing dangerous. Nothing alien. Nothing but an everyday substance people used for their DIY home repairs.

"Yes," the Doctor agreed with a cheerful grin. "Yes, it is."

"_That's_ your secret weapon?" Larry spluttered incredulously. "How can that stop a golem?"

"I told you, Charlie is a product of word-based technology," the Doctor replied. "When Loew created Charlie, he etched an activation word on his forehead. 'EMET', which means 'truth' in Ancient Hebrew. To counteract that, or to deactivate him, we need to remove the _aleph_, or first letter, in the activation word. If I can manage to use the Polyfilla to erase the 'E' in 'EMET', we'll be left with the word 'MET'."

"And what does that mean?" Allie asked, struggling to keep up with his rapid-fire explanation.

"In Ancient Hebrew, the word 'MET' means 'dead'," the Doctor replied bluntly. "Which, without his _emet_, is exactly what Charlie will be. And without him to animate them, all the other golems will crumble into dust as well."

"Okay. Okay, I get that. But how are you planning to get close enough to him to use the Polyfilla on him without him killing you first?"

The Doctor rubbed thoughtfully at the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, that part of plan still needs a bit of work."

"You'd better figure it out quickly, then, Doctor," Larry said urgently, his eyes locked on the front window, his voice suddenly taut with fear. "Because I think we just ran out of time."

Both Allie and the Doctor glanced sharply around, following his line of sight. Outside in the snowy street, piercing through the gathering gloom of the approaching winter's evening, dozens of red eyes glowed, all of them fixed relentlessly on Allie's shop.

* * *

**_Another Author's Note: Okay, there it is, hope it was all right. It took me ages to write, because I hate writing explanation chapters, so I'm hoping it all made sense and wasn't too boring. Fingers crossed X)_**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note: Good afternoon all. So sorry this took a while to write. However, I haven't been too well this week, so everything has been put on the back burner for a while. Hopefully this chapter is good enough for everyone to forgive me!**_

_**Thanks so much to the lovely people who reviewed since the last time:- SophieQueenOfTheWorld, Vincenth, EmmaMarie, MayFairy, RandomCitizen, Still Life Fantasy, Raingirlkm, The Yoshinator, MountainLord-92, Imorgen, TheWickedHeart, XxCupcakeAssassinxX, theparthenon, silentnightDW, Ahsilaa, KatieTheBaka, TheMagentaColor, skidney, Wishfulhamadryad, Aietradaea (x 5), Son of Whitebeard, kakashifan1792, Theta'sWorstNightmare and Darling-Stardusted-Traverser (x 9).**_

_**This chapter is for all of you, for encouraging me that this fic is worthwhile continuing :) Cheers!**_

* * *

**- Chapter Ten -**

"Oh my God!" Allie gave a little gasp of fear that was almost a moan. "It's not just Charlie, it's his whole golem army. They've all come for me."

"He's decided Larry and I are a maximum threat," the Doctor muttered. "We took you away from him and that was unacceptable. Now we have to be terminated, with extreme prejudice!"

"Oh, that doesn't sound good," Larry gulped. "Nope, not good. Not good at all."

Even as he spoke, a towering shadow detached itself from the gloom and moved to stand on the other side of the glass door, a pair of burning red eyes glaring in at them. They all took an involuntary step backwards and Doctor suddenly found a cold chill trickling down his spine as he realised what had happened. The situation was even worse than he had thought. Charlie had grown again. When the Doctor had first seen him in Allie's shop, the statue had been around five feet tall. Back at Mrs Neeson's house, during their initial confrontation, the Time Lord remembered facing him eye to eye, indicating that they were more or less similar in height, just over six feet. But judging from the height of those fiery eyes, the golem was now at least nine feet tall.

"Allie, Larry, get in the TARDIS," the Doctor said, keeping his voice low and calm.

Allie didn't move. Her head was tipped back and she was staring up through the plate glass window at the blood-red eyes, as if mesmerised by horror. "He's bigger!" she choked out. "So much bigger! Doctor, how is that even possible?"

"He's been slowly assimilating the rift energy he absorbed earlier," the Doctor answered. "He's been using it to increase his body mass. Now, do as I say, Allie, and get inside the TARDIS!"

"No, this is my fault, I'm not going to leave you out here alone!"

Briefly, he tore his gaze away from the looming golem to look at her. She was trembling from head to toe, obviously terrified, but her grey eyes were stubborn, and there was a mutinous tilt to her small chin. He felt a warm flash of pride at her courage and spirit. If he hadn't known before that he wanted Allie Castiel as a companion, he would have known now. He wanted to show her the stars. He wanted her to see all that there was to see, out there in that wild, wonderful universe. But first he had to prove that he could keep her safe - not just to her but, more importantly, to himself.

_You couldn't keep the others safe, _a nasty voice said in the back of his head. _You lost Rose, you abandoned her in a universe not her own. You turned Martha from the doctor she should have been into a soldier, transformed her from a healer into a killer. You were responsible for what happened to Jack, stealing from him the right to die, destroying his life, making him into a freak. And Donna...poor Donna...sacrificing herself to save the universe because you couldn't, her mind burning with knowledge that should never have been inside her head. You're not fit to have companions. What damage will you do to Allie, Doctor? How will you harm her?_

Resolutely, he shut out the dark thoughts creeping into his head. It didn't have to be that way. He could change it. This time things would be different.

"Sorry, Allie, but that's not going to happen," he said, his voice as unyielding as steel. "Larry, take her into the TARDIS. _Now._"

Larry didn't stop to argue. Grabbing Allie around the waist, he began to haul her forcibly towards the open TARDIS doors. She did her best to struggle, but she was no match for the young man's strength.

"No, let me go!" she screamed. "Doctor! DOCTOR!"

At the same moment, Charlie thrust out a stone fist and punched it through the door, smashing the glass into a thousand tinkling pieces. The giant golem was far too tall to fit under the decorative lintel built into the period shop-front, so he just walked straight through it, the wooden architraves splintering and crumpling like tissue paper around him. Another avalanche of broken glass cascaded to the ground with a deafening roar as the two huge double-glazed display windows shattered under the pressure. A gust of ice-cold wind blew through the ruined shop-front, filling the room with a blinding flurry of snow as the golem army advanced, their red eyes gleaming.

"GO, Allie!" the Doctor yelled, putting himself between Charlie and the time machine. "Just go!"

Behind him, he heard her anguished protests disappear into silence, cut off by the reassuring slam of the TARDIS door. Satisfied that both his companions were safe, the Doctor returned his attention to the golem in front of him.

Charlie took a single step forward, his enormous feet crunching loudly over the broken glass and grinding it into dust beneath his weight. Looming menacingly over the waiting Time Lord, the creature glared down at him. In all his travels, the Doctor had never seen eyes quite like it before. It was as if they were dark pits, opening directly on to a hellish furnace blazing inside the golem's head, sporadically showing unsettling glimpses of the leaping flames beyond.

"Hello, Charlie," the Doctor said calmly. "We meet again."

"Doc-tor," the golem rumbled. "Where is my master? Where is Allison Castiel?"

"Oh, she's safe. Quite safe. She's inside my TARDIS. You remember my TARDIS, don't you? The tall blue box you and all your golems couldn't get into back in Mrs Neeson's garden, no matter how hard you tried?"

There was a brief silence as Charlie's huge head slowly turned towards the TARDIS. Then he looked back down at the Doctor. "You...are not human. You...look the same. But you are...other."

"I'm much more than human. I'm a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey," the Doctor said. "My people are very old and very wise, Charlie. We know many, many things. For instance, I know where you come from. I know that Reuben Loew created you to serve and protect him. And I know that he was killed by his servant – his friend – Josef Manheim, and there was nothing you could do to stop it happening."

The fires in Charlie's eyes blazed higher and his stone fists clenched. "Then you know the truth. Friends betray. Friends kill."

The Doctor knew that he should just do his best to deactivate the statue and get it over with. Now that Charlie had grown so much taller, erasing the activation word engraved on his forehead was going to be difficult enough as it was. Besides, every bit of information he had ever heard about golems told him that arguing with one was impossible. As he had told Allie, they were nothing but automatons, empty constructs without a heart or a soul, beyond logic or reason. But the jagged timbre of Charlie's voice and the way he held himself hinted at real emotion, real pain, something which should also be impossible for a golem. And the Doctor couldn't let that go, not without contravening everything he had ever believed in. He couldn't destroy Charlie without at least giving him one last chance.

"Listen to me," he said firmly. "Just listen! I'm sorry about what happened to your old master, I really am. But Josef Manheim was just one human, one out of many. Not all of them are like that. What about Allie? You chose her as your new master. Why did you do that, Charlie? What did you see in Allie that made you want to serve her? There must have been something!"

Charlie paused, as if he was considering what the Doctor had asked. Then he replied heavily and slowly, "Allison Castiel is good...and kind...and gentle. There is...no violence in her...no darkness. The sound of her voice...the soft touch of her hand...woke me from my deep sleep. My old purpose was gone, but through her, my _emet _was restored, to protect her from all harm, for the rest of her life."

The Doctor nodded, his theory confirmed. Allie had been the first person Charlie had encountered when he emerged from his enforced dormancy, which was why he had imprinted on her as his new master. However, the depth of the golem's explanation surprised him. If he hadn't known any better, he would have suspected that Charlie had developed real feelings for Allie, above and beyond the basic imprinting process. As if, somehow, she had become his light in a sea of darkness and despair. As if he truly cared for her.

"There are a lot of other humans in this city just like Allie," he continued, trying to shake off the unsettling, preposterous thought. "Good people, Charlie. Brilliant people. And I can't allow you to go on killing them, whatever you think your reasons might be. So this has to stop...right here, right now."

"I am a golem, Doc-tor," Charlie replied, his voice as inflexible as a stone wall. "I do not stop. Allison Castiel's safety alone is my concern. All other living humans are a potential threat to her. Therefore all other humans will be eliminated. There is no other option."

The Doctor sighed and slid his hands into his pockets. In his left hand, he held his sonic screwdriver and in his right, the can of Polyfilla. "Then you leave me no choice." The screwdriver had worked before. In the absence of any other plan, he had to hope that it would work again, throwing the golem off balance for long enough for him to somehow reach up to spray the Polyfilla across his forehead.

He turned the sonic device up to maximum and, all at once, a shrill, ear-splitting sound screamed through the air like an air raid siren. The incredible blast of sound struck the golem army, sending them staggering around the room, bumping into each other in their confusion. Charlie roared in pain, his hands clamped to his head in agony. Throwing himself sideways in a tremendous leap, the Doctor jumped up on to the seat of the rocking chair Allie had been sitting in earlier, and used one sneakered foot to catapult him with athletic grace straight up into the air, shaking the can of Polyfilla as he went.

His aim was perfect. The foam exploded with a hissing from the aerosol nozzle like a noxious white cloud, striking Charlie directly on the _aleph, _flooding into the deep grooves that formed the big letter 'E' on his forehead and hardening into a solid mass.

Unfortunately, the sound from the screwdriver had not incapacitated Charlie quite as much as the Doctor had hoped. Bellowing in rage, the golem instantly struck out, his stone fist swatting the Time Lord out of the air like an insect. The Doctor hit the ground hard, skidding across the floor and colliding with the sales counter, where he went limp, every last bit of breath knocked out of his body. The sonic screwdriver flew out of his hand and smashed into the wall, its screaming wail cut short, leaving behind a ringing silence. All that was left to hear was the clunking sound of the can of Polyfilla, as it slowly rolled over and over, away across to the other side of the room, until one of the golem army trod on it and ground it into the floor, leaving nothing but a flattened oval of metal.

Stars spun crazily behind the Doctor's eyes, and every muscle in his body howled in pain from his savage impact with the floor. Vaguely, he realised that Charlie had moved to stand over him.

"Golems are not stupid, Doc-tor," he intoned impassively. "We learn. Did you really think the same trick would work twice?"

Forcing himself to focus through the pain, the Doctor cracked his eyes open and peered up at the creature's face. Both his hearts sank like stones at what he saw. He had been so close. He had nearly done it. The Polyfilla had expanded and had filled nearly all the 'E', almost obliterating it. However, the small, middle bar of the letter was still there, sharp and clear, untouched by the foam. It was about one inch long – so small, but evidently still enough to keep Charlie alive.

Two of the other golems marched forward and seized the Doctor, dragging him to his feet and holding him securely between them, their malformed hands as immovable as any vice.

"Now, Doc-tor, you will return Allison Castiel to my protection," Charlie said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and they were merely continuing their previous conversation.

"Never," the Doctor hissed through gritted teeth. "And killing me won't help you reach her, either. You can't breach the TARDIS security systems. I'm the only one who can open those doors from out here. As long as she's in there, you can't touch her."

Charlie paused, as if deliberating on the problem. "I have no need to kill you yet," he answered in his deep, unhurried voice. "To achieve my purpose, I just have to hurt you."

The silent golem on the Doctor's left tightened its grip on his arm, stretching it out stiffly from its socket. Charlie raised his head and gazed consideringly at the TARDIS.

"I know you are watching, Allison Castiel. If you do not come out, I will tear this Time Lord's arm from his body," he boomed, raising his voice to make sure he was heard. "If you still do not come out, I will rip his other arm away. If you still do not come out, I will commence the removal of his legs, one at a time. How much pain he suffers is up to you."

"Allie, you stay where you are!" the Doctor shouted desperately. "Don't you dare come out!"

For a moment there was a breathless silence, while everyone waited to see what would happen. Then, to the Doctor's despair, there was a long, drawn-out creak as the TARDIS door swung open and Allie appeared in the opening. Her short cap of blonde hair was more tousled than ever, and her pretty face was pale and drawn. She looked small and fragile and extremely vulnerable as she hesitantly stepped away from the shelter of the time machine and moved out into the room.

* * *

Charlie was right. Once inside the TARDIS, Larry had remembered the switch the Doctor had used to activate the exterior scanner, and both he and Allie had been watching and listening to everything that happened.

Allie had been furious enough at Larry for forcing her inside the time machine in the first place. But once Charlie threatened to harm the Doctor, there was no stopping her.

"Get out of my way, Larry, I'm going out there!"

Larry hovered uncertainly, still blocking her path to the door. "But the Doctor said..."

"I don't care what the Doctor said! He's about to have his arms ripped off, in case you hadn't noticed! Besides, Charlie won't hurt me. That's the whole point of this, he thinks he's protecting me. Maybe there's a chance I can make him listen!"

Larry looked anxiously at the view-screen, where he could see the two golems threatening the Doctor. "All right," he conceded. "But I'm going with you."

"No, you're not, you're staying here," Allie said emphatically. "You're nothing to Charlie. He would kill you without a second thought. And your Sally Sparrow would never forgive me. You need to trust me, Larry, and let me do this alone."

Larry fidgeted on the spot, his face tortured with indecision. However, finally he stepped wordlessly aside, allowing her to run to the doors.

Taking a deep breath, she emerged cautiously out into the frosty air of the snow-blown shop. Worriedly, she glanced across at the Doctor. He looked a bit worse for wear from where Charlie had hit him, but other than that, he seemed to be unharmed. There was a light scattering of snow in his spiky brown hair and his expression was both furious and frustrated. Allie bit her lip. Surely he couldn't expect her just to sit safely inside his ship while he was hurt? If so, he didn't know her very well.

"Leave him alone, Charlie!" she said sharply, stepping away from the shelter of the TARDIS. "I'm here now. You've got what you wanted."

The golem inclined his head to her in what was almost a bow. She could see the tiny piece of the 'E' that the Doctor had missed, glowing red beside the other three remaining letters, like a beacon on the statue's forehead. "Greetings, Allison Castiel. Your safety is my concern. Has this Doc-tor harmed you in any way?"

"No, of course he hasn't!" she cried angrily. "He's my friend, Charlie. He would never harm me."

"Friends betray. Friends kill," the golem said, repeating his usual mantra in a respectful tone, as if he was reminding her of a fact she should already know.

"No! That isn't true. Can't you see that? The Doctor and Larry both risked their lives to save me today, when neither of them had to. That's what real friends do!" She took another step forward, her hands tightly wound together, as if she was pleading with him. For all her brave words to Larry, she had no idea what she could possibly say to change the mind of such an unearthly, inhuman creature. Even so, she knew she had to try. "The Doctor says that golems can never be reasoned with, that you can never be made to understand. I'm praying that he's wrong, Charlie. Because the only person to threaten me with harm today, the only one I've seen kill...is _you_. You say you're doing it to protect me, but all you've done is frighten me. I don't want this. I don't want any of it!"

"Your race is violent and destructive, Allison Castiel. This will never change. I must kill all other humans to protect you," Charlie replied immovably. "That is my _emet_."

"And after you've killed every single person on Earth, what happens then? What's left for me? It's not possible for humans to live all alone, Charlie. We _need _friends to care about us, just the same as we need air, and food and water. That's just part of what being human means."

The golem's eyes glowed a dull red as he looked down at her. Slowly, he reached out one of his huge stone hands. The Doctor gave a warning shout, struggling futilely to escape his captors. Remembering how those hands had beaten Terry to death and brutally snapped Mrs Neeson's neck, Allie automatically flinched away in terror. But then, with a heart-stopping shock, she realised that the statue was merely stroking her tumbling curls back from her face, his touch cold but gentle, almost tender. Somehow, fighting back her fear, she managed to stand her ground, even though she wanted nothing more than to run for her life.

"I will be your friend, Allison Castiel," Charlie promised solemnly. "I will care for you. Golems do not betray. Golems do not age, or wither or die, like these weak humans. I will always be there for you."

Allie swallowed back her instinctive revulsion at his touch, struggling to find her voice to reply to him. "Th...thank you, Charlie. That's very kind," she stammered, unsure what to say. She had refused plenty of dates in her time, from men she wasn't attracted to, but she had never imagined having to let a murderous animated stone statue down gently. For all his supernatural size and strength, the golem suddenly reminded her of an eager child with a crush, unable to express his feelings and behaving badly to get attention. Unexpectedly, she found her heart stirring in sympathy. "And I'm sure you'd do all you could to make it up to me. B...but I'm afraid that wouldn't be enough. Without other humans around me, _I _would wither. I would die of loneliness and grief. And I know that's not what you want."

"What...is grief?"

"It's a pain...a terrible pain...that humans feel inside, when they lose someone they care for," she explained carefully. "That's why, if you kill the Doctor, you won't be helping me, you'll be harming me. You will cause me this pain. You will make me feel grief."

Charlie turned toward the Doctor, his red eyes burning. For a moment, his stare was so intense that it was almost as though the golem could see right through into the back of the Time Lord's skull. "This man..." he said gravely. "...this Doc-tor...is not what you think. You call him friend, but he has killed. I sense the deaths of many lying heavy on his soul. He is dangerous and is therefore a threat to you. He tried to take you from me. I cannot allow him to live."

Allie looked around and her gaze locked with the Doctor's. _The deaths of many, lying on his soul. _She had no idea what Charlie meant by that, but the sudden look of desolation in the Doctor's eyes made her want to cry out in sorrow. _The deaths of many..._ Her mind went back to their talk in the shop the previous day, when she had sensed that she had been seeing only the tip of the iceberg, that there was so much more to him, carefully hidden behind his cheerful banter. _There was a war. They died._ What had happened? What had he done, to put such a terrible look in his eyes?

Then, all at once, she knew it didn't matter. Something deep inside told her that the Doctor was good, something strong and true that she couldn't ignore. _Whatever you did in the past, I still trust you, Travelling Man, _she thought to herself. _Somehow, I'll get us out of this, I promise._

"No," she said aloud, pulling her eyes away from the Doctor and directing her attention back to the giant golem. "Charlie, I'm your master, and I'm _ordering _you not to harm him."

"I am sorry, Allison Castiel, but I must obey my _emet_," the golem said obdurately. "The Doc-tor must die."

Tears streaked down her face. "He's right, you just won't listen, will you?" She scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand, dashing the tears away, her soft lips tightening into a thin line. "All right, fine. Kill him then. I can't stop you. But I don't want to watch you do it. So you'd better let me go into the back room."

Charlie surveyed her suspiciously. "You cannot escape. I will find you wherever you go," he warned.

"Yeah, I figured that much out for myself," Allie snapped. "I'm not going to run off. I just can't bear to watch you murder someone, that's all."

"Very well," Charlie agreed. "You may wait in the other room, if that will cause you less...grief."

Without looking at the Doctor again, she turned away, her head bowed, as if she intended to leave the room. But she took only three steps towards the door leading into the back room before she stopped and turned around again.

"Charlie?" Her voice was soft and quivery, as helpless and as vulnerable as she could make it.

"Yes, Allison Castiel."

"One of my shoe laces is undone," she said. "It's dangerous. If I keep walking, I might trip and hurt myself. But my hands are shaking too much to tie it myself." She held out her hands to show them to him. Sure enough, she was trembling violently. "It's your _emet_ to keep me from harm. So, please, will you tie it for me?"

The golem paused for a moment, as if considering the possible motives behind her request. Allie gazed back at him steadily, not shifting her eyes from his face. Then he said, "Of course. You are my master. Outside my _emet_, I obey you in all things."

Subserviently, the enormous statue knelt down in front of her and bent his head, reaching for her shoe lace. Tears were pouring down Allie's face as she looked down at him. So much like a child, she thought again with a stab of pity, simple and trusting enough to fall for such a basic trick. And yet dangerous enough to uncaringly commit genocide to keep her all to himself. Unless she stopped him. Uncurling her fingers, she produced the small, golden cylinder that had been hidden in her hand. It was her favourite peachy-brown Revlon lipstick, 'Warm Cinnamon'. Pulling the lid off, she wound the lipstick up as far as it would go. The colour was just a few shades darker than the colour of Charlie's terracotta clay. Forcing her hands to co-operate, she reached out and ground the dark brown lipstick into Charlie's head, forcing the greasy cosmetic deeply into the final groove of the letter 'E', completely obliterating it.

Charlie threw back his head and screamed, a high, unearthly sound that sent a shiver up Allie's back. She took a horrified step backwards, her hands over her mouth, feeling as if she was going to be sick. The remaining three letters glowed scarlet across Charlie's forehead. MET. _Dead._

Every other golem in the room froze. A booming noise like an enormous thunderclap echoed through the room, and each and every one of Charlie's army crumbled into dust, including the two that were holding the Doctor.

Slowly, Charlie raised his gaze to Allie's face, burning with hurt and betrayal and bewilderment. "Now...I understand...what grief feels like," he said sadly. "Goodbye...Allison Castiel."

Even as she watched, her face wet with tears, the bright coals of his eyes began to fade into oblivion, until they became nothing but tiny pinpoints and winked out altogether. A strange, silver shimmering enveloped his body, and when it finally passed, she saw that his body had shrunk again, back to its original size, and he was nothing more than an inanimate statue, just as she remembered him from his days standing guard in her shop. The only difference now was that he was kneeling before her as if in homage, his head tilted up to her, and the expression on his stone face was no longer stern, but unutterably stricken with sadness.

She had won, but there was no sense of victory, no sense of triumph. Instead, there was only a feeling of tragedy and loss. Allie gave a choked cry of distress and ran towards the Doctor. He caught her in his arms and held her tightly, stroking her hair comfortingly as she wept bitterly on his shoulder.

"Oh, Allie," he murmured, his gaze fixed on Charlie's strangely pathetic, kneeling figure. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note: **_

_**Hello, quick update day today :) Thanks so much to the following beautiful people who gave me feedback after my last update, you made my week and also made this faster update possible- Raingirlkm, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, The Yoshinator, kakashifan1792, MountainLord-92, Vincenth, Ella Unlimited, ConfusedSoAmI, TheWickedHeart, RandomCitizen, AmandaDesiree, silentnightDW, EmmaMarie, Ahsilaa, XxCupcakeAssassinxX, Darling-Stardusted-Traverser, allonsylotr, MayFairy, KatieTheBaka, Scholar of Imagination, skidney, Dragoneisha, Theta'sWorstNightmare (x 2), Imorgen, Son of Whitebeard and Arts and Crafts. **_

_**To RandomCitizen - Thanks so much for the review. Yes, Allie feels a lot of guilt that she had to be the one to betray Charlie, and therefore confirm his twisted view of the world before he died!**_

_**To AmandaDesiree - Thanks for the wonderful compliment in saying that the story reads like a real episode, I appreciate that very much.**_

_**To SilentNightDW - Hey there, I was so happy to hear from you, it's great to know that you've been enjoying it :)**_

_**As I said to a few people in the review replies, this is a chapter of angsty fluff, or fluffy angst, whichever way you'd like to see it, so I'm a bit worried about it, because I'm not good at writing that sort of thing. Hopefully everyone thinks it's OK. It also basically finishes off the Charlie "story arc" and gets us started on the next adventure.**_

* * *

**- Chapter Eleven -**

"Ready?" the Doctor asked.

He was standing at the door of the TARDIS, his hand on the latch, looking over his shoulder at his two companions.

Allie and Larry exchanged a look that was a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

"Ready," they said simultaneously.

The Doctor flung the door open and stepped outside. Taking a deep breath, and crossing her fingers on both hands behind her back, Allie followed him, with Larry bringing up the rear.

What she saw was so mind-blowing that she knew her life would never be the same again.

The TARDIS had landed on what appeared to be a large, lumpy island of rock, floating through space. All around them, there was darkness, sprinkled with infinite pinpoints of starlight, shining in the distance, like diamonds scattered across black velvet. And directly below them was a spectacular swirl of ever-changing colour, more beautiful and more intense than anything Allie had ever imagined - enormous, billowing clouds of glowing gas, whirling downwards in dizzying celestial spirals, as far as the eye could see.

The Doctor was standing at the very edge of the rocky outcrop, a tall, thin figure silhouetted against the glorious backdrop of colour, his hands in the pockets of his long brown coat as he stared out at the view. Awestruck, Allie and Larry moved up to join him, both of them being very careful where they put their feet.

"Wo!" Larry murmured, his eyes as big as saucers. "Just..._wo!_"

The Doctor gave him a grin. "Not bad, is it?"

"Where...where exactly are we?" Allie asked, wondering if she should pinch herself, just to make sure she was awake and not dreaming.

"Exactly? Well, if you want to be absolutely exact, we're on an asteroid, a relatively small, random piece of rock, floating through the constellation of Canthares," the Doctor answered. "More generally speaking, though, we're overlooking a the remains of a massive star that grew too old and underwent a sudden gravitational collapse. In other words, a supernova."

"But...we're in space! Don't we need spacesuits...or something?" Larry protested incredulously, looking like he was about to hyper-ventilate. "I mean, I'm breathing! How am I breathing? And what about the cold? Space is cold, isn't it? We should be frozen!"

"The TARDIS is projecting an environmental shell around us," the Doctor explained in amusement. "It's like a forcefield or a bubble. We're safe as long as we're inside it."

Larry visibly relaxed at the reassuring information. "Well, that's a relief."

"Just don't go too near the edge. Once you fall in there, there's no coming back."

Allie flinched a little at the warning. Despite the magnificence of the once-in-a-lifetime view, she was unable to forget the reason they were there, and her heart felt heavy in her chest.

Larry must have felt it too, because he shuffled his feet and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I suppose I'd better go and get him then."

"Yeah," the Doctor replied. "That'd be good."

Nodding, Larry turned and vanished back into the TARDIS, his shoulders hunched morosely.

Hot tears stung Allie's eyes and she blinked them away, focusing on the spirals of luminous cloud twining below them. "Doctor, do we have to do this?"

"You know we do," he said gently. "He'll never change, Allie. And we can't risk him being roused from dormancy again, he's much too dangerous. We only just managed to stop him this time. Next time, the human race mightn't be quite so lucky."

"It's just...throwing him into a supernova seems so...cold and uncaring. Even if he is dead."

The Doctor tilted his head back, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets, a rueful expression on his face. "It's not really, you know," he said softly. "It's not all bad. He gets to fly free, out there, into all that magnificence. You just need to think of it as an honourable funeral."

She took another cautious step forward, transfixed by the swirling nebula. She tried to imagine it, falling out into all that colour, all that glory, all that majesty. _Flying free. _She had to admit that, as funerals went, it would be one worth having. They hadn't been able to do much for Charlie while he was alive. His poor, misguided existence had already been far too twisted by the evil and inhumanity of those two awful old men, Reuben Loew and Josef Manheim. But at least they could give him this one last thing...an honourable funeral. She supposed it gave her some comfort, some tiny amount of relief from the guilt of what she had done.

"It_ is_ beautiful," she said. "Beyond beautiful. I can hardly believe I'm standing here. It's like that scene in the movie '_Titanic_', where the girl stands at the front of the ship and feels like she's flying. Only better, a million times better."

The Doctor chuckled. "I saw that movie. Biggest load of nonsense ever. It was nothing like the real thing, believe me. Either of them."

"Either of them?" she asked, looking sideways at him in bewilderment. "What do you mean, _either_ of them?"

"The _Titanic_ that smashed into the iceberg in 1912 or the _Titanic _that nearly smashed into Buckingham Palace, Christmas before last, take your pick," he replied nonchalantly. "I should know, I was on both of them."

Allie couldn't help laughing. From anyone else, the claim would be completely preposterous, but from the Doctor, she didn't doubt it for a minute. "Now why am I not surprised by that?"

He gave her a cheeky wink. "Still, if you're going to do that scene from the movie, you should do it properly!" he said. "No half measures on board the good ship TARDIS. Here, take my hand."

Curious as to what he meant, she reached out to him and felt the cool, strong touch of his fingers curling around hers. He smiled at her reassuringly, his brown eyes twinkling.

"Now, close your eyes."

"Doctor..."

"Uh-uh, come on, close 'em!" he insisted.

Reluctantly, she allowed her eyelids to fall shut. It made her feel very vulnerable, sensing all that empty space yawning around her, just a hair's-breadth away, but unable to see it.

"Okay, keep them closed. No peeking." His arm came around her waist and she felt him gently manoeuvring her around in front of him. She could feel the warmth of his chest pressed against her back. "Do you trust me, Allie?"

The answer to that question was easy. Too easy, really, considering the length of time they had known each other. But the truth was, she'd already given him her trust a long time ago, almost from the very beginning. Being with him made her feel safe and protected, in a way that she never had before.

"Always," she replied, without even having to think.

In response, his hands took hers and moved them outward from her body, until they were stretched wide, as if she was flying, in exact imitation of the iconic scene in the movie.

"Then open your eyes," he said in her ear.

She did as he said. With a stunning shock, she realised she was poised on the very edge of the asteroid, the flamboyant gases swirling in a rainbow of shifting colour right beneath her. One slip, one mis-step, and she would fall into eternity, swallowed without trace by the immense, spreading gases of the nebula. The only thing holding her back from instant death was his grip on her hands.

But strangely enough, she wasn't frightened, even though the panoramic sight before her was almost more glorious, more alien, than she could ever hope to bear. It really did feel like flying - flying with the Doctor, out amongst the stars – and it was impossible to be scared, with his hands entwined with hers, his breath lightly stirring the soft tendrils of hair coiled around her ear. Instead, it was right, perfectly and wonderfully right. She gave an inarticulate gasp of wonder, unable to express the incredible sensation of lightness and freedom she was feeling, as if every unhappiness in her life had been left far behind. Joy and awe swelled inside her, as clear and pure as crystal.

"See?" he murmured. "Like I said, not all bad."

Just then, there was a muted clunk behind them, and the beautiful moment was shattered like a fragile pane of glass. The Doctor took an instinctive step backwards, bringing Allie with him, steering her away from the hazardous edge, returning them both to the safety of solid ground. For a brief instant, she was bewildered and disoriented, her sense of loss so acute that she scarcely knew where she was, as if she had just woken from a dream. Then, as she and the Doctor both turned together, she saw Larry carefully edging a handcart out of the TARDIS doors, on to the rocky surface of the asteroid. And strapped to the handcart was the familiar terracotta figure of Charlie the golem.

"Whew, sorry I took a while. He's not exactly a feather-weight!" Larry exclaimed, pushing the handcart over to them, oblivious to the fact that he had interrupted anything.

Allie's gaze fell on the golem's face and she returned to reality with a harsh jolt. A renewed wave of sadness enveloped her. It hurt to remember that she was the cause of Charlie's final expression of pain and sorrow; to know that he had trusted her and she had betrayed him, however necessary it had been.

"How are we going to do this?" she asked in a choked voice, looking up at the Doctor.

"We'll just tip him over the edge, and let him go," the Time Lord replied. "He'll be drawn into the heart of the explosion."

She nodded, fighting to hold back the tears that welled in her eyes. Leaning over, she kissed the statue on the cheek in final farewell, his clay face cold under her lips. "Goodbye, Charlie. I'm sorry we have to do this. I'm sorry there was no other way."

Together, Larry and the Doctor pushed the handcart to the edge and tilted it. Slowly and deliberately, just as slowly and deliberately as he had moved in life, the golem slid away from them and fell out into space, his clay figure dark against the brilliant curtain of colours.

Allie couldn't stop the tears coming now, streaming down her face as she watched him fall, his shape growing smaller and smaller, until he was nothing but a small black speck, floating further and further away into the swirling nebula. _Fly free, Charlie...fly free, forever..._

Suddenly - so suddenly that it startled her - Larry began reciting in a clear, powerful voice,

_"Do not stand by my grave and weep_

_I am not there, I do not sleep._

_I am a thousand winds that blow._

_I am the diamond glint of snow._

_I am the sun on ripened grain,_

_I am the gentle autumn rain._

_When you awake in the morningʼs hush,_

_I am the swift uplifting rush_

_ Of quiet birds in circled flight._

_I am the stars that shine at night._

_Do not stand by my grave and cry,_

_I am not there, I did not die."_

The words trailed away, hanging heavily in the still air. Both Allie and the Doctor looked at Larry in surprise and he gave an embarrassed cough. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Just thought someone should say something profound, since it was sort of a funeral and all, you know?"

"That was beautiful," Allie said, genuinely touched. "Thank you, Larry."

"Yeah, well," he replied, his voice gruff and his face turned away. "That's the poem I think of when I remember Kathy. It helps, sometimes."

For just a few moments, the three of them stood there silently, gazing out into the magnificence of space, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts. Even though the Doctor had said that Charlie didn't have a soul, Allie still found herself saying a silent prayer for him, as she imagined him tumbling into the fiery heart of the supernova. Larry, she suspected, was thinking of his lost sister. And the Doctor...well, to be honest, she had no idea what memories the Doctor was revisiting. But, from the bleak look on his face, it couldn't be anything good.

Eventually, as if by common consent, they all turned and headed back towards the TARDIS, leaving the spectacular vista behind them. Allie was glad. It was absolutely the most splendid and dazzling thing she had ever seen. But, after a while, it felt like it was too much for her limited human vision to cope with. An awesome place to visit, perhaps, but not somewhere she wanted to linger for any length of time. The TARDIS, on the other hand, while equally alien, felt warm and welcoming to her, like a safe, comforting haven. Every time she walked through the doors, she felt as if the time machine was glad to see her, as if she had come home after being away for a long time.

The Doctor took off his coat and threw it over one of the coral roof supports, before going straight to the console and moving around it, flipping switches and pulling levers. Allie watched him. Naturally, she didn't have the faintest clue when it came to flying a TARDIS. However, even in the short time she had known the Doctor, she got the impression that some of the adjustments he made to the controls weren't always really necessary. It was a reflex action, something he did when he needed to think, or when he had to push something difficult to deal with into the back of his mind. It was almost as if just touching the console made him feel better, more in control.

"Don't suppose your ship has a bathroom?" Larry asked. His voice was very low and he appeared pale and rather subdued.

"Through that door, up the corridor, third door on the right," the Doctor replied.

Larry nodded and walked across the console room, vanishing into the maze of white corridors beyond. Allie hoped he wouldn't get lost. She had sneaked a look through the doorway earlier and there had been passageways leading off in a dozen different directions and all of them had looked the same.

"Do you suppose he's all right?" she asked the Doctor, who was still busy fiddling with some buttons on the console. "He looked a bit peaky."

"Probably just a touch of space sickness," he shrugged. "Everyone gets it, their first time in space."

"_I _haven't," she reminded him.

He glanced across at her with a smile. "Ah, but you're the unflappable Allie Castiel! That gives you an unfair advantage."

"Oh, shut up, Travelling Man!" she said laughingly, her cheeks colouring faintly with embarrassment at his teasing. If anything, the whole episode with Charlie had shown she was anything _but_ unflappable, however often the Doctor chose to say it. If she had been, perhaps the whole thing wouldn't have upset her so much.

Trailing her fingers along the railing, she walked up the ramp to the console and sat down in one of the yellow jump seats, gazing up at the motionless glass time rotor, still worried about Larry. "He told me all about his sister Kathy, you know. How he lost her to those Weeping Angels. It must have been hard for him. I think it bothers him a lot more than he lets on."

"Yeah, I know," the Doctor replied, his eyes once more fixed on what his hands were doing. "I couldn't save her. Sometimes, there's just nothing I can do. Some things just have to happen, whether I like it or not, and that was one of them. Being in the TARDIS is probably bringing it all back for him. He'll be fine, once I get him back home to his Sally Sparrow."

As he spoke, he pulled down a heavy-looking lever and the time rotor began to oscillate with its customary wheezing, groaning sound. Without being told, Allie realised that meant they were taking off.

_Back home. _The thought was like a blade in her heart. Holding on tight against the jolting motion of the ship, she turned her face away, not wanting the Doctor to read the reluctance in her expression. Now that Charlie was gone, their adventure was nearly over. The Doctor would return her and Larry to Earth, like a couple of unwanted packages, and then he would leave, because he was a traveller, and that was what he did. She would never see him again. Larry would go happily back to his life with Sally Sparrow. And Allie would be left alone, to mop up all the damage Charlie had done. Just thinking about her ruined, snow-filled shop made her feel tired and dispirited. How she was going to explain it all, she had no idea. Especially to the extremely cynical Detective Chief Inspector William Bell.

"I suppose I'd better start thinking of a really good cover story," she said lightly, trying to make a joke of the situation, too proud to show how she really felt. "I've got one hell of an insurance claim waiting for me to sort out back home."

For the first time since they had re-entered the TARDIS, the Doctor stopped moving, his hands remaining still on the console. "You could always...stay."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Stay?"

"Here. In the TARDIS. With me," he clarified. Slowly, he turned to face her, one eyebrow slightly quirked in a quizzical fashion. "We could travel together, see the Universe. Wherever you want, anywhere in time and space. Your choice."

Allie was so stunned at the suggestion that she could hardly breathe, let alone speak. _The two of them, together_, _travelling in this incredible ship, towards infinite horizons and untold adventure... _It was all too surreal, too perfect. How could any of it even be happening to her? She was no-one, nothing, just an ordinary girl from London, and here he was, offering her the universe on a silver platter.

"I mean, it's okay if you don't want to," the Doctor said hurriedly, obviously misinterpreting her silence. "The last few days have probably been fairly traumatic for you, I know. But it's not always like this, I promise. It's not all giant blowflies and insane golems. There are beautiful things out there too, fantastic, wonderful, brilliant things, just waiting for us to come and discover them. We can find them all, Allie, if you want...together."

She wanted to shout out 'YES!', wanted it so badly that it hurt. But there was one thing she needed to ask him first - one thing which had been nagging at her since the confrontation with Charlie, and which still stood between them, holding her back from agreeing to accompany him. Stepping close to him, she looked up into his eyes, biting her lip nervously.

"Back at the shop, Charlie said...that you had many deaths weighing on your soul," she said softly. "And you didn't deny it. What did he mean?"

His jaw tightened and his brown eyes were suddenly much too bright, as if they held a thousand unshed tears. Allie thought she had never seen so much suppressed pain in a person's face before. For the first time since she had met him, she saw the latent danger inside him, just as Charlie had said, and she was afraid. All at once, she wondered if he would turn away in anger and refuse to answer the question. Maybe she had pushed him too far, maybe he would be furious enough to rescind his offer to come with him and just dump her back on Earth at the first opportunity. However, remembering that beautiful, perfect moment of trust between them when he had held her suspended over the supernova, she stood her ground, unable to just let it go, whatever the consequences. She had trusted him. If he really wanted her as a companion, now it was his turn to trust her.

"Please, Doctor, before I travel with you, I need to know what he was talking about."

He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and ran his hands over his face in a weary, resigned gesture. Then he replied in a low, curt voice, "My people didn't just die in a war, Allie. I killed them. Every last one of them. I didn't have any choice. The war turned them into monsters, even worse than the creatures we fought. They would have destroyed the Universe to ensure their own survival. And so I stopped them, because I was the only one who could. Charlie was right, I'm no innocent – their deaths are a part of me now, and I carry them with me, wherever I go. But that's my burden as the last of the Time Lords. I don't expect anyone else to shoulder it, least of all you."

For an instant, Allie hesitated, paralysed by shock. She didn't know what she had been expecting him to say, she only knew that wasn't it. But then she reached out and squeezed his hand, accepting the truth of his reasons without question and filled with compassion for what he must have suffered.

"Thank you for telling me. A few days ago, I might not have got that," she admitted quietly. "But now, after what I had to do to Charlie, I think I have some small idea, even if I can never completely understand what you went through. I'm so very sorry, Doctor."

He looked down at their fingers entwined together, his eyes still full of dark memory, and his grip tightened on hers, as if he was drawing solace from her touch. "Yeah, me too. For both of us."

His fingers were so tight on hers that they were almost painful. Allie could almost feel the rage and anguish and sorrow flowing from his past through his touch. She wanted to hug him, but somehow she knew not to. His grief was too raw and too jagged; the sort of grief it was too hard to acknowledge to yourself, let alone to another person. Even though he had freely answered her question, it was clear any kind of overt comfort would be an intrusion and would not be welcome.

"So," she said brightly, trying to lighten the conversation before their sudden feeling of empathy evaporated and things grew uneasy between them. "This travelling in the TARDIS thing - are you _sure_ it's not all giant blowflies and insane golems?"

He gave her a lop-sided grin, grateful for the reprieve. She could visibly see him retreating back behind his usual bubbly persona, sloughing off the sadness like an old, unwanted skin, and her heart ached for him.

"Not all the time, no. Decision time, Allie Castiel. Are you in or are you out?"

"I guess you'd better count me in," she smiled.

"Ha!" he shouted in jubilation. Raising their joined hands above her head, he spun her in a series of complicated pirouettes around the console, leaving her dizzy and breathless and laughing. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Doctor and Allie, the new Team TARDIS!"

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew something and hung it around her neck. "There you go, Miss Castiel. Your very own TARDIS key. That makes it official."

She looked down and saw the ordinary Yale lock key dangling from a slender white cord. _Her very own key to the front door – official, indeed. _With a delighted burst of excitement, she picked it up between her thumb and forefinger, gave it a kiss for luck, and then slipped it down the front of her shirt.

And that's when everything went very, very wrong. All at once, the whole TARDIS lurched sideways, as if a giant hand had swatted it playfully. Both the Doctor and Allie were thrown violently against the opposite wall. The lights flickered wildly, and a great wind seemed to rush past their faces, as if they were caught in the middle of a tempest. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the disturbance was gone. The TARDIS righted itself and the lights resumed full strength.

The Doctor jumped to his feet and hurried over to the control panels, rapidly scanning the instruments.

"What was _that_?" Allie asked, sitting up and gingerly examining her scraped elbows.

He didn't answer, but he was obviously agitated, spearing his fingers through his spiky hair and muttering fiercely under his breath. "It doesn't make sense. Everything's fine. Apart from a few hiccups in the auxiliary stabliser monitors, and that couldn't cause a major malfunction." Then, slapping his hand flat on the console, he said to the TARDIS, "Come on, old girl, what's _wrong_ with you?"

Barely as he spoke, there was another lurch, this time in the opposite direction. The Doctor snatched at the edge of the console and managed to save himself, but Allie found herself flying through the air once more.

"Doctor, _do_ something!" she exclaimed, massaging a bruised shoulder.

"I'm trying!" he gritted out, his fingers moving like lightening over the various controls. "In the meantime, get a good grip on something!"

Just then, obviously disoriented, Larry stumbled back into the room through the inner door. "What's going on? Are we under attack?"

The Doctor held up his hand, gesturing for silence, his face strained. "Sssshhhhhh! Listen!"

For a moment, Allie couldn't hear anything at all. But then it came again, a sonorous clanging which seemed to be reverberating from the very heart of the TARDIS itself. There was something horribly ominous about the noise, something that chilled her to the bone.

"What is it?" Larry asked, his voice scarcely audible.

"It's the cloister bell!" the Doctor answered grimly, his hands moving even faster over the controls now. "Twice in a day - that has to be a record even for me! It means the TARDIS is in very grave danger. And so are we!"

With that, he disappeared under the console, levering one of the inspection panels off and tossing it aside. Allie held on to the closest railing just in time to avoid another lurch. Larry, unprepared, was flung back against the door frame and lay still. A steady stream of blood trickled from a nasty head wound. Desperately, Allie ran over and grabbed him, clinging to one of the jump seats like a limpet and anchoring them both to safety before the TARDIS could pitch them off their feet again. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be out cold, despite all her efforts to rouse him. All she could do was to hang on to him and hope for the best.

Then she happened to glance up at the exterior scanner and her face paled. "Doctor!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he replied impatiently, his voice muffled from under the console, where he was lying on his back, only his long pin-striped legs and his Converse sneakers visible. "I'm working on it. Kinda busy here."

"Doctor, will you just_ look!_" Allie insisted, her voice escalating into panic.

In response, his head finally popped up over the side of the console. "What?" His eyes widened dramatically as he followed her line of vision to the view-screen. "Oh, blimey."

Where before there had been nothing but star-sprinkled darkness on the screen, a huge spacecraft was reforming itself, apparently out of nothing.

"So that's it!" The Doctor was moving again now, his agile fingers punching in codes on the space time coordinate panel.

"_What's_ it?" Allie shrieked.

"It's a city ship in warp drive!" he replied distractedly, still busy. "It's re-materialising in this sector and we, like everything else nearby, are being sucked against its hull!"

Allie stared in horror at the monolithic ship bearing down on them. "We'll be crushed!"

"Not...if I can...re-materialise...on board the...ship! HOLD ON!" the Doctor shouted, one foot up on the console to support himself as another violent tremor shook the TARDIS. Using all his strength, he slammed down one of the larger levers, and the time rotor gave a piercing screech. Allie held on to the jump seat with one hand, and clung fast to Larry with the other. The atmosphere seemed to contort weirdly and then fold in on itself. She could still hear the cloister bell tolling, but she couldn't see the Doctor any more. Everything was shimmering like a heat mirage and the pressure on her lungs was unbearable.

Feeling as if her head was about to explode, she opened her mouth and screamed silently in agony.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note: Wow, thank you so much to all the people who reviewed since the last chapter was posted, it was such a huge encouragement. Maybe my "fluff" isn't so bad after all! I guess I had better continue writing then, since people appear to still be enjoying :) **_

_**So big hugs to the following lovely readers: MountainLord-92, Celestial Valkyrie, Vincenth, Imorgen, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, Darling-Stardusted-Traverser, kakashifan1792, TheWickedHeart, EmmaMarie, TheYoshinator, Still Life Fantasy, Jo (x 3), Random Citizen, LadyMaluHolmes, TheMagentaColour, ConfusedSoAmI, skidney, Scholar Of Imagination, KatietheBaka, WishfulHamadryad, XxCupcakeAssassinxX, Aietradaea (x 2), MayFairy, Drama-Queen's-Ramblings, Son of Whitebeard, theparthenon, Kathryne Buzolic, EDZEL2 (x 2) and Raingirlkm.**_

_**To Random Citizen: Thanks for the review! You are right, not good for a first trip, and it's not about to get better any time soon :) Unfortunately for Charlie, however, he is gone for good (at least for now)!**_

_**To jo: Hi there, and welcome to the stories. Thanks for your reviews and I hope you enjoy the rest XXX**_

_**Only a short chapter this time around, because it's been a very hectic week, so sorry about that. However, I promise a longer one next time!**_

* * *

**- Chapter Twelve - **

Consciousness slowly seeped back into Larry's brain like water trickling through rocks. Dimly, he realised that his head hurt and that he felt sick. For a few moments, he had no idea where he was or what had happened. A faint sense of panic kicked in. Maybe he'd been in an accident on his bike. Or maybe he'd been hit over the head and mugged – you could never be too careful these days. Or maybe he just had a really, really bad hangover, in which case Sally was probably going to kill him anyway.

He cautiously cracked open one eye, squinting against the light.

"I think he's coming round!" a female voice said nearby. "Larry! Larry, can you hear me?"

He had the blurred impression of someone with blonde hair leaning over him.

"Sally?" he croaked, assuming it was his girlfriend. "What happened?"

"No, it's not Sally. It's Allison Castiel," the voice told him. "You're on board the Doctor's TARDIS. We had a bit of a rough landing and you hit your head."

_Doctor? TARDIS? _ Larry's hand went up to his forehead, finding a big sticking plaster just over his left eyebrow. He opened both eyes and looked around. As his vision cleared, he saw two people hovering over him. One was a girl with sympathetic grey eyes and short, ruffled blonde hair. She was holding a large white medical kit in her hands. The other was a man with spiky brown hair and sideburns. He was wearing glasses and had a concerned expression on his face. Suddenly it all came flooding back to Larry – Charlie's funeral, the unexpected turbulence, the mournful tolling of the cloister bell...

"Allie! Doctor!" he exclaimed, sitting up abruptly, and then wishing he hadn't, as a wave of nausea churned through his belly.

"Take it easy!" the Doctor said, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. "That was quite a knock you took. I'm sorry about that – travelling in the TARDIS isn't usually this rough. But there was a city-ship warping right into our flight-path and I had to take evasive action."

"So...where are we?" Larry asked, his eyes flashing across to the motionless time rotor. Whatever the Doctor's 'evasive action' had entailed, the TARDIS was obviously now stationary. Which, the way Larry's stomach currently felt, could only be a good thing.

"On board the city-ship, I should think," the Doctor replied cheerfully. "Judging by the view, in the hold."

Sure enough, when Larry looked at the exterior scanner, it showed a dark, cavernous room, littered with a large number of packing cases, crates and obscure machinery.

Allie wrinkled her nose in distaste. "What a mess! It doesn't look very well organised."

"No, it doesn't, does it?" the Doctor said thoughtfully.

"What is a city-ship anyway?"

"We-ell...it's precisely what the word indicates – a ship that can be a city when it's on the ground. Or, if you like, a city that can be transformed into a ship when the occupants wish to move."

"Like in a war, you mean?" Larry queried, staring in fascination at the view-screen, despite his pounding head. He still found it difficult to believe that he was actually travelling in space. He'd spent so much of his life discussing sci-fi with his on-line buddies, arguing the merits of different TV shows and video games, role-playing epic space battles and dangerous space missions, but he'd never dreamed he'd ever actually experience the real thing for himself.

The Doctor sighed audibly. "No, not in a war. Trust that to be the first thing a human thinks of! The city-ships mostly belonged to the nomad civilisations of the Universe. They can defend themselves, of course, but their primary function is motion, not war. Actually, I'm very surprised that there are any left."

"Why's that?" Allie asked.

"Well, you saw it back there, it's a museum piece," the Doctor said, obviously forgetting for a moment that neither of his inexperienced companions would have the slightest chance of spotting the difference between one spacecraft and another. "There haven't been any nomad civilisations requiring city-ships since just after the great Proxima Wars, and that was eons ago, long before the Earth was even populated."

"You said the TARDIS travels in time as well as space," Allie reminded him. "You don't suppose we've somehow slipped back in time, do you?"

The Doctor jumped to his feet and crossed over to examine some of the dials on the control panels. Allie put her hand under Larry's elbow and carefully helped him to rise. His legs wobbled under him for a moment, and the inside of the circular room seemed to spin around him. But then everything seemed to settle down and he found that he could stand after all.

"According to the navigational instruments, we didn't re-enter the time vortex, so we can't have moved in time," the Doctor announced, with some relief. "Besides, even the TARDIS couldn't malfunction by millennia." He slapped the side of the console affectionately. "Could you, old girl?"

Larry hid small, imperceptible grimace. Quite frankly, he wouldn't be surprised in the slightest at anything the Doctor's unpredictable ship chose to do. But he knew better than to say anything. He had an idea the Time Lord wouldn't take too kindly to any of his passengers criticising the TARDIS.

"So, this city-ship...what kind of people are likely to be on board?" he asked instead, steering the conversation back towards safer ground.

"There's another thing that's curious," the Doctor mused. "There was no insignia on the exterior of the ship. Most of the nomad races were fiercely proud. They would never venture into space without an insignia to denote who they were. It makes me wonder..."

Frowning, he stared off into space, his voice trailing away into silence.

"Wonder what?" Allie prompted.

He blinked absently and then focused on her. "Oh, nothing. Just a thought. Still, at least the cloister bell has stopped! That has to be a good thing." Suddenly, he grinned at them both, his eyes alight with boyish enthusiasm. "And I don't suppose there's any harm in taking a look around, is there, now that we're already here?" He offered Allie his arm. "Coming, Miss Castiel?"

"Coming, Doctor," she said without hesitation, slipping her arm through his.

"What about you, Larry? Are you up for it? You can stay here and rest if you'd rather."

To be honest, Larry's head was killing him and he was feeling far from well. But the idea of staying in the enormous, echoing TARDIS all on his own didn't appeal to him either. Sometimes he felt like the time machine was watching him, and not in a good way.

"I'm coming," he said gruffly. "Lead on, then."

"We won't go far," the Doctor assured him as they set off down the ramp towards the exterior doors. "Just a quick look and then back to the TARDIS. I'll have you back home with Sally Sparrow in no time, I promise."

* * *

As far as alien spacecraft went, compared to the spectacular interior of the TARDIS, the hold of the city-ship wasn't particularly impressive. Perhaps once it had been used to store all the supplies required to maintain a huge city floating through space. But now it was more or less empty, with just a few bits and pieces of what looked like junk scattered around, like somebody's dusty old attic. It was cold and gloomy and the air smelt dank and unpleasant. A small amount of amber light filtered from large illuminated panels spaced at regular intervals around the walls, but the room was so huge, this was only enough to prevent the three of them from bumping into things. It didn't help to reveal their surroundings very clearly.

Larry nearly turned and went back inside the TARDIS. There were too many shadows here and he didn't like the feeling of the room. It wasn't just the cold, it was something more than that, as if hidden eyes were watching them. It made him think of a tomb, long forgotten. All at once, he thought he could hear whispering behind him. Whirling around, he stared into the gloom, but there was nothing to see but the serene blue shape of the Doctor's ship.

"Did you hear that?" he demanded hoarsely.

"Hear what?" The Doctor reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small torch with a powerful beam. He played the dancing circle of light around them. Instead of helping, Larry thought the frail illumination only made the shadows look deeper and darker.

"The voices. Talking. Whispering."

The Doctor shook his head. "I didn't hear anything. Allie?"

The blonde girl was hopping up and down on the spot like a little bird, her arms wrapped around herself as she tried to keep warm. "Nope. Nothing."

"Are you sure you're feeling all right, Larry?" the Doctor asked, watching him with some concern.

"Sure. Of course," Larry snapped irritably, even though his head was hurting more fiercely than ever. "I'm fine. Just fine."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows a little at the uncharacteristically surly response, but he chose not to comment. "All right. If you say so."

Larry wasn't quite sure why he had answered so curtly. It was just that suddenly he felt..._angry_. A quick, hot flash of temper that was totally alien to his usually placid nature. Strangely, however, it had felt...good. Satisfying. _Necessary._

The Doctor moved over to the nearest piece of equipment, studying it closely, apparently fascinated by it. It was large and complex-looking, with a mesh of crystalline tubing and attached wiring. His two companions followed him, somewhat reluctantly. Larry couldn't even begin to guess what the intricate gizmo was for.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a pulsed electro-magnetic field device," the Doctor answered in an absorbed voice. "_Very_ interesting."

"I'm sure we would think so too, if we had any idea what you were talking about!" Allie said in amusement.

"Hmmm? Oh, right. It's to do with bio-electronics. An interface between biological materials and micro- and nano-electronics."

Allie glanced questioningly at Larry to see if he was getting it, but he just shrugged blankly. The Doctor could be talking double Dutch for all he was following. Again, he felt the unreasoning flash of anger. Usually, discovering some honest-to-goodness alien tech on board an old spaceship like this would have excited him beyond belief. But for some reason, the Time Lord's brief explanation only made him feel as if he was being patronised.

"It's complicated," the Doctor continued. "My old companion, Nyssa, could explain it to you if she were here, but I'm not going to try. But the reason it's interesting is that it proves that the TARDIS hasn't taken us back in time. This technology is relatively new. They hadn't even got near to understanding the _basics_ of bio-electronics when the city-ships were in use. If they had, the Proxima Wars might not have dragged on for so long."

"What exactly _were_ the Proxima Wars?" Allie demanded.

"Oh, they were fought an incredibly long time ago," the Doctor replied. "They went on and on and on. I learned about them in history class when I was a boy, and very boring they were too. All those dates and battles...shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings...ugh, used to send me to sleep. Anyway, basically, from what I remember, it was a conflict between three great civilisations who each believed they had the right to rule the Universe. The Kraals, reptilian creatures, very arrogant; the Keturions, a warrior race, very proud and honourable; and the Krotons, who had no flesh form, but were made from a crystalline substance. It was a very nasty sort of a war – set the Universe back on its path of development for a thousand years."

"So, who won?" inquired Larry, fascinated at the story despite himself. It was like listening to the plot of a Star Wars movie, not something that really happened.

The Doctor shrugged. "No-one. The races were too evenly matched. None of them could get an advantage. It just went on until all three races were decimated and could no longer fight. The city-ships were constructed to move refugees to new homes, and when new homes could not be found, to house them in space."

"Where they became nomads!" Allie said in sudden understanding.

"Exactly!" he beamed approvingly. "Right, now that the history lesson is over, we can..." He broke off, his voice rising sharply. "Larry, for heaven's sake, don't _touch_ anything!"

Larry jumped guiltily. Without even thinking, he had been fiddling with some switches on a small black box nearby.

"First rule of travelling in the TARDIS!" the Doctor said curtly. "Never...and I mean _never_...touch anything! That is a triple diode regulator. If you'd pressed the wrong thing and overloaded it... BOOM! All right?"

In response, Larry folded his arms, his hands tucked away out of sight like a child caught doing something wrong, his expression stormy. Somewhere deep inside him, the smouldering anger he had been feeling ever since they left the TARDIS flamed into virulent life, burning brightly.

_How dare the Doctor tell him off like that?_ He trailed along behind his two companions as they continued to explore, listening to their animated chatter. Black resentment grew inside him like a sullen, poisonous plant. He hadn't asked to be here, after all. He'd had quite enough of the Doctor and his dangerous escapades last time. He and Sally had nearly been killed by those Weeping Angels – it was no thanks to the Doctor that they hadn't. And Kathy...what had the smug alien git done to save Kathy? Nothing, nothing at all, that's what. Too busy worrying about getting his cantankerous old ship back than about the people who got harmed in the process. And as for this time around...Larry didn't have to get involved with Allie Castiel and her problems, she was nothing to him. But he had still helped her out of the goodness of his heart, and at risk of his own life. And what was the thanks he got? To be traipsing around some dank old space freighter playing third wheel to the two of them, while the Doctor showed off his other-worldly super-knowledge.

His head throbbed unmercifully, and the strange anger grew and grew, bitter thought after bitter thought feeding the flames. Something in the back of his head warned him that something was wrong. This wasn't him. He was a laid-back, easy-going sort of bloke. He never felt this antagonistic. But something was forcing filthy, black fury into his mind, and he couldn't keep it out.

_This is the Doctor's fault_, he thought, staring at the Time Lord's back, violence stirring in his heart, hatred suddenly fizzing along his veins. _All the Doctor's fault!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Well, I promised a new update before the weekend, so I'm just slipping in under the wire, LOL.**

**I've been totally blown away by the kindness of the people who took the trouble to leave me some feedback, so here's some big thanks to:- TheWickedHeart, EmmaMarie, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, Random Citizen, Celestial Valkyrie, Ali, kakashifan1792, Vincenth, MountainLord-92, MayFairy, emason109, Aietradaea, Drama-Queen's-Ramblings, ronnieangell, The Yoshinator, Lavender Time (x 2), Scholar of Imagination, skidney, XxCupcakeAssassinxX, Dragoneisha, Imorgen, kat-duchannes, Amaya-hime, Little Miss Fearless, Wishfulhamadryad and Son of Whitebeard.**

**To ali - So sorry to have made you sad. Hopefully there will be some more cheerful bits in the future which will make you smile instead :)**

**To Lavender Time - Welcome to the story, I was so happy to get your reviews and to hear that you were liking it so much, it made my week. I hope you continue to enjoy as the story progresses **waves****

* * *

**- Chapter Thirteen -**

Fascinated with his surroundings, the Doctor moved deeper into the gloomy hold, entirely unaware of Larry's growing discontent. Every now and then, he stopped to examine some more of the cast-off equipment, his curiosity growing stronger and stronger with every new object he came across. Allie followed along with him, listening patiently as he exclaimed in surprise and delight over a large tritanic endoskeleton; an antique Laserson probe; a bulky mass detector; a crate of ionic fusion bars; a black box from a Rokathian spaceliner; an Adiposian levitation beam generator; and various other equally-absorbing items.

"Oh, this is_ beautiful!_ I haven't seen one of these in centuries! Some of this stuff would qualify as genuine collector's items!" he said enthusiastically, his voice booming and hollow-sounding as he recklessly stuck his head inside a cylindrical gravitational accelerator. "It'd be worth a fortune in most galaxies. But _this_..." He pulled his head out again and hurried over to a small silver box. "This is a Basingstoke gene splicer, designed to accelerate evolution by increasing the amount of horizontal gene transfer. Nasty little thing, but extremely cutting edge technology. I could think of half a dozen hi-tech planets that would love to get their grubby little hands on one of these."

"But it doesn't look like anyone's been here in ages," Allie said, running her hand lightly across the top of the silver box and showing him the dark smudge of dust that appeared on her fingers. "And everything's just piled in here higgledy-piggledy. There's no storage system, or even proper aisles. It's as if no-one could care less about it. Why would anyone do that, if it's all so valuable?"

The Doctor shook his head. "That's just it, it's not all valuable." He pointed to a nearby tower of carelessly stacked machine parts. "That, for instance, is nothing but a pile of old rubbish." He turned in a slow, thoughtful circle, playing the torchlight over more of the surrounding objects, baffled by the mixture of technology, from so many different races and from so many different eras. "So's that. And that. So the real question is, why would all these treasures be left here gathering dust in this dank hold, in amongst piles of clapped-out, useless junk that nobody in their right mind would want to keep? And why store all of it on board an anonymous city-ship that shouldn't even exist in this time-stream?"

"Um...I've got no idea?" Allie replied, a slightly anxious look on her face, as if she was unsure whether or not he actually expected her to provide an answer to his question.

He gave her a quick, appreciative grin. He'd almost forgotten how good it was to have a companion to share his discoveries with. "Me either. None of it makes any sense. Which means it's a puzzle." Reaching into his pocket, he drew out his sonic screwdriver, already bursting to investigate. "And there's nothing I love more than a good puzzle!"

* * *

_Not far away, sitting in front of a monitor screen, two creatures watched the small group in the hold with absorbed interest._

_"Who are they?" the female asked in a high, gurgling voice. "I do not recognise their craft."_

_"They appear to be human," the male replied._

_"That cannot be so. Humans do not have the technology to defeat the gravitational pull of a city-ship in warp drive."_

_"It is odd," agreed the male. "And see, Ranyan, the older, brown-haired male appears to be in charge. The woman and the younger blonde male defer to him."_

_"He shows an amazing knowledge of the technology in the hold," Ranyan observed, watching closely as the Doctor explained some of the various pieces of equipment to Allie, running his screwdriver over everything as he talked. "And he has a highly-advanced sonic device. Perhaps, Erka, at last this is the one we have been waiting for?"_

_"That remains to be seen. We must first test the strength of his mind."_

_The female nodded gravely. "It shall be done. And the others? If they enter, and have not the strength, they will die."_

_"Then let them," Erka said, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen. "We have no interest in them. We wish only to take their leader."_

* * *

The Doctor was chattering away in a cheerful fashion, hardly stopping to draw breath, his sonic screwdriver buzzing almost continuously as he scanned the different items of equipment. Allie only understood one word in three he said, but that didn't matter. She enjoyed just watching him as he bounced back and forth, his face alight with enthusiasm.

_Boys and their toys, _she thought affectionately.

The horrible old city-ship wasn't exactly her idea of a good time, but each to their own. If she let him get this so-called mystery out of his system, maybe she could talk him into going somewhere warmer next time. She hoped so, anyway. None of them had bothered to put on their coats before they emerged from the TARDIS, and she was beginning to regret it more and more as she felt goosebumps rising on her skin beneath the long sleeves of her top. It had been cold enough back in her shop in London, but here it was not the familiar chill of a snowy winter, it was somehow more bone-deep than that. She couldn't help worrying maybe it was the cold of space, seeping in from outside the ship. Her thoughts kept drifting to Charlie, seeing him in her mind's eye as he fell from the asteroid, wondering how cold his terracotta body was right now as it tumbled end over end, towards the supernova. With a renewed shiver, she pulled her mind away from the painful image, and focused on the Doctor instead.

Despite his preoccupation, he must have noticed the shudder that wracked her body, because he paused for a second, and took her hands in his, rubbing her chilled fingers between his own. "You're freezing!" he said in concern.

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Oi! No fibbing! Your hands are like iceblocks!" he insisted. "This probably isn't exactly what you had in mind when I said I'd show you the wonders of the Universe, is it?"

She had to laugh at the rueful, sheepish expression on his face. "Maybe not..._exactly_," she admitted.

Tugging off his brown, pin-striped jacket, he draped it around her shoulders, leaving him in just his royal blue shirt and tie. "Here, take this."

A flush rose to Allie's cheeks and she averted her eyes. It was ridiculous, she supposed, but it seemed too odd to see him without his long coat and his jacket - almost as if she was seeing him naked, which was an idea far too disturbing for her to comfortably think about. She pushed her arms through the sleeves of the jacket and pulled it on. It was much too big for her, but the fabric was warm from his body and smelled enticingly like him. Clean, fresh and pure, like the air after a summer rainstorm.

"What about you?" she blurted out quickly, embarrassed by her own wayward thoughts. "Now _you'll_ get cold."

"Oh, don't worry about me, Allie Castiel," he said with an exuberant grin. "Gallifreyans have a much lower body temperature than humans. It takes a lot to make me cold. Stimulating, that's what this is. Gets all the old synapses firing!"

"Gallifreyans?"

The question was an automatic reflex, but she was immediately sorry she had asked, because a shadow passed behind his eyes and the smile ran away from his face. "My people," he answered curtly. "My planet was named Gallifrey."

Again, she caught a glimpse of pain and darkness on his face as he turned away, his screwdriver already buzzing. "Anyway, never mind all that," he continued over his shoulder, his voice determinedly cheerful once more. "Just give me two more ticks, and we'll all go back to the TARDIS and get warm!"

Holding the pin-striped jacket closely around her body, Allie wandered over to stand next to Larry. It suddenly occurred to her that he might be feeling a bit left out. Throughout her entire exchange with the Doctor, he had said nothing at all, merely standing in the background with his arms folded, a stony expression on his face, his glowering eyes following every move the Doctor made. If Allie hadn't known any better, she would have said he was sulking. But that didn't seem at all in character for the happy, good-natured young man she had come to know over the last few days. Then again, maybe the injury to his head was hurting more than he let on, she reasoned to herself. Or maybe he resented the delay in getting back to his Sally Sparrow. Either way, he didn't appear to be in any mood for conversation, so she stood quietly beside him and let him be.

As she waited, almost cosy now in the Doctor's jacket, she found her attention drifting. All at once, for just a few seconds, she thought that she too could hear the eerie, sibilant whispering that Larry had mentioned earlier. However, it was so faint, and gone so quickly, she couldn't be sure. She glanced behind her sharply, but to her enormous relief, she could detect no sign of movement in the gloom.

_The whole thing with Charlie has really given me the heebie-jeebies, _she thought crossly. _I'm starting to imagine things._

When she looked back, she noticed for the first time the outline of a door in the wall closest to them. She frowned, trying to remember if it had been there previously. Even though it was only about ten feet away, she couldn't recall seeing it before. But of course, it had to have been there, didn't it? Doors didn't just come and go. The Doctor must have moved the torch and the angle of the light had changed, that was all. She stared at the newly-discovered entrance. It was odd-looking, not at all the sort of thing she would have expected to find in the hold of a decrepit old space-ship. More the kind of door you might discover in a pyramid or a grand temple or something; tall and black and imposing, with a wide lintel above, supported on two ornate posts to either side. There were a series of marks deeply engraved into the lintel, but she couldn't tell what they were supposed to represent.

"Doctor!" she said urgently. "Look!"

The Time Lord turned around and saw the door. His eyes widened and his lips pursed in a soundless whistle. "Well, now_ that's_ impressive!" he exclaimed, abandoning his examination of the equipment and crossing over to it.

Allie and Larry followed him. Stretching out his hand, the Doctor touched the door lintel, and immediately the strange markings lit up from within, glowing purely and distinctly against the black metal on which they were engraved. Belatedly, Allie realised that it was some kind of writing.

"I thought so!" the Doctor said in satisfaction.

The writing was strangely beautiful, formed from an ever-varying pattern of swirling loops and intricate curlicues. Allie had never seen anything quite like it before. "What is it?" she queried softly.

"Asterion script," he replied. "One of the oldest forms of writing in the Universe."

She was about to ask him what the message said, when suddenly she realised that, by some arcane miracle, the words suddenly made sense. It wasn't that the letters had changed in any way - it was more like an extra part of her brain had unexpectedly kicked in, enabling her to understand what had been incomprehensible just moments before.

"I can read it!" she gasped, clutching at the Doctor's arm in confusion. "Just a few seconds ago, I couldn't make anything of it at all, but now all at once I understand it! What happened?"

"It's all right, don't panic," the Doctor said, putting his hand reassuringly over hers. "It's the TARDIS. Her gift to you. She's providing a telepathic field that gets into your brain and helps you translate other languages. Brilliant, isn't it? Usually it's a bit more instantaneous than that, so you don't even notice. But, as I said, Asterion script is a very old language, so it takes even the TARDIS a few seconds to decipher."

Allie felt a fizz of excitement in her veins at his words, as she turned her eyes back to the writing above the door. She had always been rubbish at languages at school – she had failed French spectacularly more times than she wanted to remember. But now, here she was, reading one of the oldest languages in the Universe – an _alien _language - without even trying.

"Beware all ye who enter here," she read aloud, eager to show off her new skill. "For in this place, thy dreams will become reality."

"It's a very loose translation, of course, Asterion script is too complex for anything else," the Doctor nodded. "But, yeah, that's the gist of it."

"So...these Asterions...are they likely to be the ones running this ship?"

"Nah. The Asterion civilisation broke up a long time before the Proxima Wars began. The remnants were absorbed into a myriad of different cultures. So, I'm afraid it still doesn't give us a clue."

"So what does the message actually mean? What's in there?"

The Doctor's mouth tightened into a grim line. "I'm not sure. But a cryptic message in Asterion script written in the hold of a decrepit old city-ship left over from a bygone age? Right where we so coincidentally happened to land? Call me a bit of a sceptic if you like, but I'm starting to get a very bad feeling about this place. One of those bad feelings with 'Ignore me at your peril!' written all over it in big, flashing neon lights. Maybe it's time we were getting back to the TARDIS."

"No argument here," Allie said, giving an inward sigh of relief as they turned away from the door and began to retrace their steps back towards the time machine. "Let's go." This place was just plain creepy. The sooner they left here, the better, as far as she was concerned.

"Why a bad feeling?" Larry spoke up suddenly, his voice harsh. Startled, Allie realised he had made no move to follow them. Instead, he had drifted even closer towards the black doorway, and was lightly running his fingers over the architrave with an almost loving touch. "It sounds pretty good to me. The place where dreams come true. Maybe, if I went in there, I'd find Kathy waiting for me. Maybe I'd find out that the Weeping Angels didn't take her from me after all. What d'you think, _Doctor?_"

Allie looked at the young man in surprise. His tone was resentful, almost hostile, as if he held nothing but absolute contempt for the Doctor. His face was twisted into a nasty expression and his eyes glittered with aggression.

"Larry, what on earth's the matter with you?"

"With me? There's nothing the matter with me!" he snapped. "I'm just curious to know why the Doctor's so keen to stop us finding out what's behind that door!"

The Time Lord shifted his position slightly, and with a shock, Allie realised that he had surreptitiously pushed her behind him, every line of his body tense and wary, as though he was shielding her. But shielding her from _what? _It was only Larry...wasn't it?

"Now, you listen to me, Larry," the Doctor said, his voice suddenly soothing and persuasive. "If there's one thing I've discovered in my travels, it's that if something seems too good to be true, it's because it usually is. I've heard plenty of people talk before about making dreams come true – more people than you've had hot dinners - but what they always forget to mention is that nightmares are dreams too. Just for once, I think it's better if we don't meddle in what doesn't concern us. So let's just go back to the TARDIS, all right? All three of us. And I promise I'll get you straight back home."

Larry gave a cackle of derisive laughter that made Allie's hair stand on end. "You think you can protect her, Doctor? You can't, you know, just like you couldn't protect any of the others. Look at you, the oh-so-great Doctor, the great puzzle solver, running scared like a little child afraid of the dark!" he sneered malevolently. "But then, you were always good at running, weren't you, Doctor? Especially after you destroyed your own people, ruthlessly condemning them to die, screaming in the flames, while you lived on. Not a nice feeling to be the last of your kind, is it, Time Lord?"

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Larry bared his teeth savagely like a wild animal. "I'm your _friend_, Doctor. I'm Larry Nightingale. Are you going to save me? Come on, then!" He laid his hand flat on the black door and it silently slid open. "This is your big chance! Come and save me!"

"NO! STOP!" the Doctor shouted, but it was too late. Larry disappeared into the darkness and was swallowed up.

The Doctor and Allie were left staring after him.

"What was that all about?" Allie said incredulously. "He must have gone mad. So much for your theory of space sickness!"

The Doctor's face was hard and his eyes were bleak. "No, something was using him. Some sort of psychic manipulation. His concussion must have made him more susceptible. I should never have allowed him outside the TARDIS. This was a trap from the very beginning. Somebody very badly wants me to go through that door."

"But...why?"

"I don't know. I expect I'll find out when I go in to look for Larry." He looked down at Allie. "You need to wait inside the TARDIS, where you'll be safe. If I don't come back, Emergency Program One will activate, and she'll return you to Earth."

Allie shook her head. "You're not going in there on your own."

The Doctor suddenly looked very tired. "I must, Allie. You're my responsibility now. Both of you are. I took on that responsibility when you came on board my ship. I have no idea what's waiting on the other side of that door, and I need to keep you safe."

The look on his face wrenched at Allie's heart. It was odd, she thought, how they both seemed to accept the idea that the doorway was evil and something that he might not come back from. It was something about the atmosphere of the city-ship – something that was dank and decaying, the subtle, corrosive aura of death.

"No way!" she said stubbornly. "I'm coming with you, whether you want me to or not. If Larry is having some sort of weird fit, you might need an extra pair of hands to control him." Then, as the Doctor drew breath to refuse, she added, "And don't you dare write me off because I'm smaller than you, mister. I'm stronger than I look!"

The Doctor's lips twitched in a small smile at her fierceness. "No, I would never dare to do that."

"Well, then," she said firmly, reaching out and taking his hand. "Let's do this."

He sighed in defeat. "All right. But once we're inside, you do everything I tell you to, when I tell you to do it, understood?"

She slanted him an impish look from under her eyelashes. "Aye-aye, Captain."

Hand in hand, they turned to face the sinister black doorway, gaping before them like a hungry mouth.

"Only one thing left to say then," the Doctor said ruefully. "ALLONS-Y!"

And together they stepped forward into the shadows.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating this one, folks. Combination of lack of time, ill health and a massive writer's block. However, this is a nice, long chapter, so hopefully that will make up for it somewhat.**_

_**Thanks to the following people for their continued support, despite how busy everyone gets at this time of year: MayFairy, Vincenth, loulouflowerpower, SophieQueenofTheWorld, kakashifan1792, whatwouldhappenifpieswereflies, XxCupcake-AssassinxX, The Yoshinator, Drama-Queen's-Ramblings, MountainLord-92, TheWickedHeart, JMichelleW, AVENGERS-girl-ASSEMBLE, silentnightDW, Imorgen, Dragoneisha, theparthenon, skidney, GothDetective21, Raingirlkm, CrimsonDelight, Darling-Stardusted-Traverser (x 2) and Aietradaea. **_

_**To silentnightDW - Hi there, thanks for the review. No, I think I can safely say that Allie won't have one of those weird moments, so you can rest easy on that score, LOL.**_

_**Okay, this chapter turned out to be a little surreal. Then again, it was a 'dream sequence' and was meant to be surreal, so maybe that's a good thing. Or not. I don't know any more...arggghhhhh...**_

* * *

**- Chapter Fourteen - **

Cautiously, the Doctor led the way past the door bearing the Asterion script and into the room beyond. It was large, circular and completely empty. There was no sign of Larry anywhere.

"I don't get it," Allie whispered. "Where did he go? He couldn't disappear that quickly in a room this size!"

"Not unless something took him," the Doctor replied bleakly.

There was a swishing sound behind them and they both whirled around, just in time to see the door sliding firmly closed, cutting them off from the TARDIS.

"Well, that was always going to happen," the Doctor commented, squeezing Allie's hand reassuringly and trying to sound upbeat. "Bit of a no-brainer really."

Pulling out his sonic screwdriver, he prepared to scan the locking mechanism. But before he could activate the device, there was a strange sucking noise, and the outline of the door disappeared entirely as if it had never been, leaving nothing behind but a smooth, unmarked wall.

"That, on the other hand, was a bit unexpected."

Allie ran her hand over the wall, her eyes wide with shock. "But...what happened? Where did the door go? It can't just...disappear! Can it?"

The Doctor waved the screwdriver back and forth over the wall. He checked the readings and then re-scanned the wall, just to be sure, his stomach sinking in dismay.

Seeing the look on his face, Allie demanded anxiously, "What? What's wrong?"

"I'm starting to think this mightn't be a city-ship after all," he replied. "I think it's just something that has temporarily chosen to take on the form of a city-ship. These walls are organic."

"Organic?"

"It's a bio-ship of some sort. It hasn't been constructed from manufactured materials. It's been grown."

Allie snatched her hand back from the wall as if she expected it to suddenly bite her. "You mean...it's alive? We're inside some sort of...creature?"

"Alive?" the Doctor repeated. "Yes, in a sense. According to this data, it's formed from an immense collection of metamorphically-enhanced cells."

"What does that mean?"

"It's able to alter its molecular structure when required, both internally and externally," he explained. "Basically, the entire vessel is one, big, enormous shape-shifter."

"Then...why take the form of some battered old relic from centuries ago? What was the point?"

"Maybe because somebody knows exactly what it would take to pique my interest," he said grimly, repeating his scan for a third time, even though he knew the results weren't going to change. "It was an elaborately designed trap and I stupidly walked right into it. We need to find Larry and get out of here, right away."

There was no answer. The Doctor turned around. "Allie? Allie! What are you doing?"

However, the blonde-haired girl was no longer paying attention to what he was saying. Instead, she was staring out across the empty room, her expression oddly arrested. "They're so beautiful."

The Doctor frowned in confusion. "What's so beautiful?"

"The flowers, of course."

"What flowers? There's nothing there."

She took a step further forward into the room. "Can't you see them, Doctor? They're so red, just like blood. And they smell so sweet."

Her eyes were blank and unfocused, completely empty.

"Allie, stop!" he shouted, reaching out to grab her arm and pull her to a halt. "Don't!"

But his hand tangled in the fabric of his suit jacket, still draped around her shoulders, and it slipped away in his grasp.

And before he could do anything to prevent her, moving swiftly now, Allie kept on walking.

* * *

One minute, Allie was stepping forward into the field of alien poppies, the fleshy, red-petalled blooms parting to receive her into their enticingly perfumed embrace. The next minute she was somewhere else altogether. Instead of the softness of flowers beneath her feet, there was the crisp crunch of gravel. Looking around, she realised she was walking along a winding pathway, edged with closely-packed trees, intermingled with huge grey boulders. None of the trees looked healthy or normal. They were old and gnarled and black, festooned with vines and creepers, their trunks and branches twisted and distorted into hideous shapes that reminded Allie far too much of screaming faces. Here and there, she could see clumps of large, scarlet toadstools, puffy and poisonous and spotted with white. The air felt heavy and cool, with only the occasional teasing shaft of sunlight filtering through the overhead branches to bathe the ground in eerie, threatening shadows. The wind moaned through the tree-tops, rustling the leaves, and making the branches creak and groan all around her, as if the trees were conversing in a secret, malevolent language of their own.

_The deep, dark wood. _

The sinister words screamed inside her head as she recognised her surroundings from her childhood nightmares. She had always been deathly afraid of the woods in fairy stories when she was young. So many shadows...so many densely-crowded trees...you never knew what might be hiding in there...lurking...watching...waiting to pounce.

_Monsters. Demons. Dark things, with no heart and no soul._

She had no idea how she had come to be here in this awful place. Even worse, she appeared to be completely alone.

"Doctor?" she called urgently, whirling around and trying hard to look in every direction at once. "Doctor, what's happening? Where are you?"

There was a crackling behind her in the gloomy undergrowth. Allie spun to face the source of the sound, her heart in her mouth. "Doctor? Is that you?"

There was no reply, just a heavy, patient silence, as if the hidden presence was was just waiting to see what she would do next. Allie swallowed hard, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin, as she realised that, whatever was out there, it wasn't the Doctor. Terrified, she looked frantically back and forth along the path, wanting to run, but confused as to which direction to go. Everything looked too large, wildly out of proportion, the trees towering over her like skyscrapers, the path far too wide, as if somehow she had entered a world created for giants. Or as if, somehow, she had been shrunk down to the size of a mouse.

"Wake up!" she told herself, closing her eyes tightly. This had to be a nightmare, it had to be. The Asterion script had spoken of dreams coming true, and the Doctor had guessed that they wouldn't necessarily be good ones. With all her strength, she willed herself to return to consciousness, to find herself safely back with him again. "WAKE UP!"

But when she opened her eyes, the scene was unchanged, the dark trees looming, the gravel path stretching tauntingly before her.

Suddenly, the undergrowth parted and there was a vibrant flash of orange as something jumped out in front of her. Allie screamed in shock and tumbled backwards on to the path, slicing her hands open on the jagged gravel as she tried to break her fall. An enormous fox stood over her, its eyes full of cunning intelligence, its whiskers quivering at the end of its long pointed nose, as it sniffed the scent of fresh blood. Slowly, it smiled down at her, its jaws parting to reveal sharp, pointed teeth.

"Where are you going to, little brown mouse?" it rasped. "Come and have..._lunch_...in my underground house."

_Familiar,_ Allie thought wildly. _That line was familiar._ She had heard it before, in her childhood. This was all part of a story, she was sure of it. There was an answer, a correct answer, that she had to say, to make the fox leave. _Come on, Allie, think! It's in your head somewhere, you have to remember. What was it? WHAT WAS IT?_

The fox leaned over further, eyeing her hungrily, slaver dripping from its mouth, and she knew her time was running out. One snap from its powerful jaws, and she would be gone forever.

_Little brown mouse. It had called her 'little brown mouse'. A mouse took a stroll through a deep dark wood...of course! That was it! It was 'The Gruffalo'! Her mother had read her this over and over again when she was tiny, back when they were all happy together as a family. In those far off days, she had been able to repeat the words by heart..._

Her lacerated hands were throbbing painfully, making it difficult to concentrate. Clenching them into fists, she took a deep breath and said loudly, "It's terribly kind of you, Fox, but no – I'm going to have lunch with a Gruffalo."

To her immense relief, the hideous fox did a double-take, the expression on its face almost human in its wariness. "A Gruffalo? What's a Gruffalo?"

More confidently now, as her memory of the story came back to her, Allie answered, "A Gruffalo! Why, didn't you know? He has terrible tusks and terrible claws, and terrible teeth in his terrible jaws."

The fox backed away nervously. "Where are you meeting him?"

Allie got to her feet and brushed herself off. "Here, by these rocks," she said, quirking her thumb towards a nearby cluster of boulders. "And his favourite food is _roasted fox_."

The fox's tail twitched in alarm. "Roasted fox!" it fearfully said. "Goodbye, little mouse!", and away it sped.

Watching him run, Allie found herself smiling in a superior fashion, just like the mouse in the story. "Silly old fox, doesn't he know?" she murmured. "There's no such thing as a Gruffalo!"

Something ominous shivered up her back as she heard herself saying the words, as if she was tempting fate. She had the distinct feeling that there was something she had forgotten, something about the Gruffalo, something about the end of the story. But as is often the case during a bad dream, her brain seemed to be oddly out of focus, and she couldn't bring the rest of the tale to mind, no matter how hard she tried. For one wild moment, she was tempted to curl up in a tight little ball in the middle of the path until it was all over. But somehow, she suspected the nightmare wouldn't allow her to do that. Besides, staying in one place paralysed with terror wasn't going to get her out of here and back to the Doctor. Whatever twisted game the owners of the city-ship were subjecting her to, she would just have to play along with it and hope the story came back to her as she went on – at least until she managed to wake up.

Taking a deep breath, she chose a direction at random, and began to walk swiftly along the forest path, keeping her eyes peeled for further threats, instinctively knowing that there would be more. Sure enough, before she had gone very far, she came to a small, burbling stream, and a dark, predatory shadow fell over her as something swooped down from the branches above and landed nearby. Two feathered wings folded and settled, while two cold, glowing eyes appraised her. It was a huge brown owl. Even though she knew it had to be part of the story, Allie couldn't help shuddering as she saw the creature's cruel curved beak and its sharp, vicious talons.

"Where are you going to, little brown mouse?" it inquired in a harsh voice, putting its head menacingly on one side. "Come and have tea in my tree-top house."

"It's frightfully nice of you, Owl, but no," Allie responded in a shaking voice, forcing herself to stand her ground as the next part of the script filtered back into her head. "I'm having tea with a Gruffalo."

"A Gruffalo?" the Owl squawked. "What's a Gruffalo?"

"A Gruffalo! Why didn't you know?" she recited, praying she got the order of the words right as they slowly reformed in her memory. It was so long ago since she had heard them. Not since her parents had separated when she was a small child, and her mother had stopped reading to her, or doing anything else with her, really. Forcefully, she pushed the painful thought of her parents away and tried to concentrate on what she was saying. "He has knobbly knees and turned out toes...and a poisonous wart at the end of his nose."

"Where are you meeting him?"

Defiantly, Allie stepped up on to the log that served as a bridge over the small, fast-running brook, a slender hand indicating the water below. "Here, by this stream. And his favourite food..._is owl ice-cream!_"

The owl flinched away and took to the air, its wings beating powerfully. "Owl ice-cream? Toowhit, toowhoo! Goodbye, little mouse!", and away it flew.

Sagging with relief, Allie made her way over the log, placing her feet carefully on the slick, slippery surface until she safely reached the other side.

"Silly old Owl," she whispered. "Doesn't he know? There's no such thing as a Gruffalo."

She walked on, deeper into the forest, leaving the tinkling of the stream far behind her. If anything, the trees seemed to be even closer together here, the air black and dank and unpleasant. Allie had to steel herself to keep moving. Somewhere at the end of this nightmare was the Doctor, she told herself, picturing his cheerful smile and drawing strength from the image. She trusted him. She knew he would never willingly abandon her. He was out there somewhere. All she had to do was find him.

Before long, the path began to wind along the shores of a large lake. The water was choked with green weed, opaque and murky. Bulrushes fringed the perimeter, standing up stiff and straight, like fingers pointing up to the sky. Here and there, large bubbles rose to the surface of the water and popped, as if something was stirring in the cloudy depths. Allie moved nervously back from the edge, putting as much distance between herself and the water as she could, wishing with all her heart she could remember what came next in the story. However, all her caution proved to be useless, since the next threat, when it came, did not come from the lake.

Vaguely, she thought she saw a movement up ahead on the path. Peering through the gloom, she noticed a large, untidy pile of logs off to one side. Something was sliding out of them, impossibly slippery, impossibly long, impossibly sinuous. Allie caught her breath in horror, realising it was the biggest snake she had ever seen.

"Ssssssssssss," it hissed, coiling its body and rearing above her, it's diamond-shaped head swaying back and forth hypnotically. "Where are you going to, little brown mousssssssse? Come for a feasssssst, in my log-pile housssssssse!"

Allie gulped and froze in fear, trying her hardest to keep from being transfixed by the snake's unblinking gaze. It wasn't easy. Her eyes kept helplessly following the intricate weaving of its head, her resistance slipping away further and further with every sway. "It's wonderfully good of you, Snake, but no..." she managed to croak. "I'm having a feast with a Gruffalo."

"A Gruffalo?" the snake demanded, refusing to release her eyes, stupefying her with its will. "What's a Gruffalo?"

"A Gruffalo!" Allie muttered sleepily. "Why didn't you know? His eyes are...orange. His..tongue is...black." She yawned, her voice trailing away as she lost track of what she was saying, her pupils shrinking almost to nothingness as a dangerous feeling of emptiness swept through her body. "He has purple...prickles...all over...his back..."

The snake pulled up sharply, the abrupt movement shattering the hypnotic connection between them. "Where are you meeting him?"

Allie nearly staggered as she was released from the insidious spell, suddenly realising how close she had come to being lulled into a deadly trance. "Here, by this lake!" she snapped, pinching herself hard on the arm to ensure she remained alert. "And his favourite food is..._scrambled snake!_"

The snake was disappearing almost before the words left her mouth. "Sssssscrambled ssssssnake," it hissed. "It's time I hid. Goodbye, little mouse!", and away it slid.

Thoroughly shaken by her close brush with death, Allie began to run as fast as she could, no longer caring whether she was going in the right direction, just wanting to get as far away from the snake's log-pile house as she could.

"Silly old snake," she said breathlessly. "Doesn't he know...there's no such thing as a Gruffa..."

As she spoke, she rounded a corner, and saw it. It was standing in the middle of the trail, in a small clearing, its back facing her. Even without seeing the front of the creature, somehow she knew it had terrible claws, and terrible teeth in its terrible jaws. Knobbly knees and turned-out toes and a poisonous wart at the end of his nose. Eyes that were orange, a tongue that was black...and purple prickles all over his back. And that's when she remembered what she should have known all along, the horrifying thing she had done her best to block out. That in the story, there _was _such a thing as a Gruffalo, and it had haunted her dreams as a child for years, long after her mother had left and there was no-one to protect her from the nightmares.

With a cry of abject fear, she scrabbled to a halt and began backing away. Slowly, very slowly, the thing began to turn around, the purple prickles rippling obscenely up and down its back. Terror rocketed through her, rising up to suffocate her, reaching out to stop her heart. In all her nightmares as a child, she had never seen the thing's face. More than anything else, she knew she didn't want to see it now, but she couldn't look away.

"Doctor!" she screamed. "DOCTOR, PLEASE! HELP ME!"

But the Doctor didn't come and the creature kept turning. Summoning all her willpower, Allie whirled around and ran back the way she had come. Panting for breath, she raced along the path, past the snake's log-pile house, past the lake, over the stream. And behind her followed the heavy, terrifying footfalls of the Gruffalo, shaking the very earth as it came after her, hunting her down like a frightened mouse. She was running as hard as she could, she could feel her feet moving beneath her, but she seemed to be getting nowhere, as if she was running through wet sand. All around her, the trees seemed to be melting into an insubstantial mist, while doom crashed and thundered behind her.

"It's just a dream," she sobbed to herself, over and over as she ran. "Just a dream, it can't hurt me. You can't die in a dream."

Without warning, she burst out into another clearing. The first thing she saw was an old ruined windmill, its broken, ragged vanes silhouetted dramatically against a turbulent sky. Black clouds churned overhead, boiling like smoke, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. In the foreground was a long table, covered in a white cloth and scattered with an assortment of tea-cups, plates and tea-pots, not one of them whole. At the end of the table sat a battered and dishevelled figure in a tall top-hat, with bright red frizzy hair, and enormous green eyes.

Despite her fear of the pursuing Gruffalo, Allie stared at the man incredulously. His hat was brown, covered in lace and trimmed with a large dusky pink ribbon, decorated with feathers and hat pins, together with a large label which read "10/6". He wore a pink, high collared shirt and a black scarf tied into a bow tie, dotted with pink and yellow blobs. His frock coat was brown, and he had white lace cuffs and brown checked fingerless gloves.

To his right sat a shabby-looking grey hare, sipping delicately from a tea cup with no bottom. To his left was a small, white mouse in a bright red tunic, with a needle-like sword on her hip.

Allie had no doubt that she was looking at the Mad Hatter's Tea Party. "Oh, you have _got_ to be joking!" she exclaimed.

The Hatter rose to his feet and inspected her minutely. "Alice?" he queried. "You're here at last! We've been waiting so long for you!"

"I'm not Alice. I'm Allie!" she said crossly.

"Alice...Allie...it's the same thing, isn't it?" he replied.

"'Course it is!" the Dormouse chimed in.

"Definitely," the March Hare agreed. "She is Alice. Alice, she is. Sit down and have a cup of tea, Alice."

"I'm_ not _Alice!" she shouted back, stamping her foot angrily. "I should know who I am – this is my dream, after all! My name is Allison Castiel and I'm looking for my friend, the Doctor. Have you seen him?"

The Mad Hatter opened his eyes very wide. "Doctor who?"

"He isn't Doctor_ anything_. He's just...the Doctor."

"Just the Doctor?" the Hatter mused, suddenly climbing up on to the table and walking towards her, tea-cups and plates scattering under his feet and smashing to the ground. The March Hare leaned calmly back out of his way, as if this sort of thing happened all the time, while the Dormouse took refuge behind a large tea urn. "_Just_ the Doctor? My dear girl, he's supposed to be your friend, and you don't even know who he is. How can you expect us to?"

"I know enough to be sure that I trust him," she retorted, trying to keep her voice steady and even and free of the slightest doubt.

The Hatter leant close to her, his huge eyes lambent and curious. "Do you? Do you, really? He told you killed his own people because he didn't approve of their actions. A man that ruthless might do anything...anything at all. Why should he care about what happens to you?"

"Shut up!" Allie jammed her hands up over her ears, like a stubborn child determined not to hear what she is being told, determined not to allow them to make her doubt the Doctor. "I'm not listening! I'm not listening!"

The March Hare snickered loudly and the Dormouse did a little dance on her chair. "She's not listening!" they sing-songed together.

The Hatter shook his head sadly. "If your Doctor is so trustworthy, Alice, then tell me this...why is a raven like a writing desk?"

"My name isn't Alice!" she said, taking her hands down from her ears. "And...I have no idea."

"Neither do I," the Hatter grinned happily, grabbing a handful of crockery from the table and beginning to juggle it. "Puzzling, isn't it?"

Allie blinked in confusion. "But...that has nothing to do with the Doctor."

He abruptly stopped what he was doing and gave her a piercing look. "No," he admitted, his voice oddly solemn. "And neither...should...you."

In the distance, Allie suddenly heard heavy footfalls crashing nearer and nearer. "I haven't got time for this!" she cried. "I'm being chased by a Gruffalo! You lot obviously know a lot more about the Doctor than you're telling me. So I'll ask you one last time...which way do I need to go to find him?"

Immediately, the three of them pointed, each in a completely different direction.

"Yeah, thanks so much for your help!" she said sarcastically. "Enjoy your tea party!"

With that, she set off again, choosing the direction the Mad Hatter had indicated, for no particular reason, guessing that in this insane dream it probably didn't matter anyway.

"I wouldn't go that way!" the Hatter shouted after her. "The Wicked Witch of the West is down there!"

But Allie had experienced more than enough of his mad ramblings and ignored him completely. "Oh, shove it in your ear!" she muttered irritably under her breath.

"Silly little Alice!" she heard the Dormouse say in a patronising tone. "Doesn't she know?"

There was a smashing sound, as if they had all tossed their tea-cups up in the air and allowed them to fall to the ground.

"There's no such thing as a Gruffalo!" they all chorused gleefully.

Resolutely, Allie began to run through the obscuring mist, leaving the insanity of the Mad Hatter's tea-party far behind her. Despair began to churn in the pit of her stomach. She was starting to tire already, and she knew it wouldn't be long before her terrifying pursuer caught up with her. And then what would happen? She kept telling herself that she couldn't possibly die in a dream. But she'd never had a dream like this before. What if she could? What if the Gruffalo captured her and killed her before she found the Doctor? What would happen to her in the real world?

All at once, the mist began to turn an eerie, phosphorescent green, and cackling laughter filled the air. A dark shadow loomed up, tall and angular, blocking Allie's path.

"Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of spears!" a dry old voice crackled. "Thought you were pretty foxy, didn't you?"

As the mist cleared, Allie saw that the newcomer was an old woman, dressed in voluminous black robes, with a high, pointed hat on her head and a carved broomstick in her hand. Her face was covered in ugly warts and her skin was a bilious green colour. It seemed that, for once, the Hatter had actually been making sense. Just as he had warned, this was clearly meant to be the Wicked Witch of the West.

But as Allie stared at the old woman, something else was pulling at her memory. Something about the witch's face...something about her _voice_...

"Mrs..._Neeson?_"

"Hello, my pretty," the witch sneered. To Allie's dismay, she saw that the old woman's head was lolling forward, as if she couldn't hold it upright. _As if her neck was broken._ "I suppose you thought you'd gotten rid of me?"

Allie recoiled in horror and guilt at the macabre sight. "No...no, it wasn't like that!"

"Then what _was_ it like? _You_ did this to me. You sold me the statue. You _killed_ me!""

"Please!" Allie begged. "You have to understand! It was an accident! I didn't know what Charlie was, I _swear_, I didn't know! I didn't mean to kill anyone!"

The old woman raised her gnarled hands, white lightning spitting from her fingers. "Well, my little pretty, I can cause accidents too."

Closing her eyes, Allie waited for the end, too weary to be scared. There was no point in running. The only thing back the other way was the Gruffalo, and if she had to choose, she thought she would rather Mrs Neeson killed her. At least then, maybe, their score would be even.

But at that moment, there was a peculiar whistling noise and an enormous thump. Cracking open her eyelids, Allie saw a small, picturesque cottage had crash-landed out of nowhere in the middle of the path. In keeping with the rest of Allie's dream, it was like something out of a fairytale, with warm stone walls, high gables, leaded glass windows and a thatched roof. It even had yellow roses growing around the doorway. The Wicked Witch of the West was nowhere to be seen. From what Allie could tell, it seemed the pretty little cottage had landed right on top of the horrible old woman. She found herself feeling oddly grateful that there were no legs sticking out under the house anywhere – she wasn't sure she could have handled that.

Warily, she approached the open door of the cottage. Inside, she could hear someone singing merrily.

_If this is Snow White singing to a bunch of birdies, I'm going to vomit, _she thought wryly. _When I get out of here, I really need to see a psychiatrist._

But it wasn't Snow White, it was much worse than that. Stepping inside, Allie found herself inside an immaculate kitchen, complete with gleaming white bench-tops and sparkling appliances. A woman was bending over the oven, singing to herself as she pulled out a tray of crisp, brown biscuits. Hearing Allie arrive, she spun around, a welcoming smile on her face.

"Darling! Welcome home!"

Allie did a double-take. "_Mum?_"

Back in the real world, Allie very rarely saw her mother. Yvette Castiel was a bit of a New Age hippie, with flowing dark hair and bright-coloured loose clothing, far too deeply involved in a variety of environmental causes to bother with her daughter, not to mention her never-ending array of boyfriends. This woman, however, looked like the epitome of a 1950s house-wife. She was dressed in a neat, pale-blue twin-set, matched with a tweed skirt, and her hair was perfectly coiffured and rolled. The unsettling picture was completed by a ruffled apron and a strand of pearls around her throat.

"Right, now this is getting too weird!" Allie exclaimed. "The Gruffalo, I can handle. The Mad Hatter, the Wicked Witch of the West, bring it on. But my mum in an apron? That's going too far!"

"Don't be silly, darling," her mother said fondly, moving towards her. "What else would I wear when I'm baking?"

"That would probably be a fair question," Allie retorted, dodging around the table in the middle of the room, making sure she kept a safe distance between them. "Except that you _never _bake. You don't even know how to turn the oven on!"

Yvette Castiel gave a little trill of laughter. "Oh nonsense, Allie. I always bake at this time of the day, so that you have something nice to eat when you come home from school."

"I'm not in school any more, Mum. I haven't been for a long, long time."

"Oh, go on," her mother smiled, her eyes strangely blank as she proffered the tray. "I made jammie dodgers. They're your favourite. Have one!"

Allie looked at the little round, double biscuits and her stomach turned over with nausea. Hundreds of disgusting white maggots were crawling out of the blood-red heart-shaped centres, scattering across the tray. Yvette Castiel kept smiling at her serenely, as if nothing was wrong at all.

Reaching for the door-knob behind her, Allie pulled it open, desperate to escape. "No, thanks, I think I'll pass!"

Her mother carried the tray over to the sink. "All right, have it your way. Tell your father dinner will be in half an hour."

_Dad? _Allie thought incredulously. _Dad's in the same house at the same time as Mum. Like that was ever going to happen!_

She stumbled into the next room and slammed the door shut. It was a small, comfortable living room. An open fire burnt brightly in the hearth and an old black-and-white television was on in the corner. A middle-aged man with thinning hair sat in an armchair, wearing an old baggy grey cardigan, the evening papers spread out on his knee. He was smoking a pipe.

"Dad," Allie said huskily, staring at him in astonishment. Her elegant, fashion-conscious father would never be caught dead wearing a cardigan. And he had never smoked a pipe in his life.

"Hello, Allie-girl," he replied genially. "I'm glad you're here. You're just in time."

"Just in time for what?"

He indicated the television set with the stem of his pipe. "To watch 'Doctor Who' with me, of course."

Allie's eyes flew to the screen. She couldn't remember ever watching television with her father, not since she was eight years old. "'Doctor Who'?" She had never even heard of the show before.

"Mmmmm. Such an amazing programme. It's been going for nearly fifty years, you know. How many other shows can say that?"

The image on the screen depicted a tall, lanky man in a dark-coloured shirt and pin-striped trousers standing alone in the middle of a huge empty room. He had spiky brown hair and was wearing white Converse trainers on his feet.

Allie's heart leapt in sudden hope as she recognised him. "Doctor!" she breathed.

"He's lost his companion again," her father observed sagely. "Poor sod, they're always running off on him. I wonder where she's got to."

Disregarding him entirely, Allie threw herself down in front of the television set and began hammering on the glass screen. "Doctor! DOCTOR! It's Allie. I'm here. I'M HERE!"

The black and white picture jumped and fizzed, a series of white, jagged lines skittering across the screen. Allie saw the Doctor turn and peer into the darkness, a frown wrinkling his brow, as if he was trying to work out where her voice was coming from.

"DOCTOR!" He was walking towards her now, coming closer all the time. She hammered again on the screen, determined to make him hear her. "DOCTOR!"

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, oddly cold and hard like stone. "Steady on, Allie-girl!" her father's voice said soothingly in her ear. "It's not going to work, you know. The Doctor's not real. He's only a story."

She shoved him hard, taking him by surprise and sending him sprawling backwards on to the worn carpet. "_You're_ not real!" she snarled. "None of this is real! And _don't _call me Allie-girl! I always _hated_ it when you called me Allie-girl!"

Whirling back to the television, she saw that the Doctor's face was close enough to fill the screen. She was staring right into his brown eyes. Static fizzed again, and suddenly, as if the station had just tuned in, she could hear his voice, "Allie! Allie, can you hear me? Allie!"

From outside in the kitchen, there came the sharp, intrusive sound of shattering glass. Allie was aware of Yvette Castiel screaming hysterically, over and over again, until the sound cut off abruptly into a choked gurgle. Heavy, ponderous footsteps approached inexorably. Allie was so panic-stricken she couldn't breathe. Feeling the ground shuddering beneath her, she glanced frantically over her shoulder at the kitchen door, her heart pounding in terror.

"Doctor!" she screamed. "It's the Gruffalo! The Gruffalo's coming for me!"

Slowly, her father sat up, a wide, fixed grin on his face. "Silly little Allie!" he said coldly. "Doesn't she know? There's no such thing as a Gruffalo!"

"Allie, listen to me, you have to look away from that door!" the Doctor's voice instructed urgently from the television set. "Look away from the door and look at me!"

But Allie couldn't. All she could hear were the terrible footfalls and the sound of her father giggling madly, as if it was the best joke in the world. Something hit the door with tremendous force, smashing it into matchsticks. A tall, imposing figure surged forward powerfully, bringing most of the wall crashing down all around it. Allie stared up at it, utterly transfixed, ice filling her veins as she saw her dreaded pursuer's face at last. _Silly little Allie, doesn't she know? There's no such thing as a Gruffalo. _They had all been right, and she had been wrong. The thing she was most terrified of wasn't a Gruffalo at all and never had been.

It had been Charlie all along.

"Hello, Allison Castiel," the terracotta golem said, his eyes blazing, the three-letter word 'MET' shining across his forehead like a fiery beacon. "I have come back from the dead for you. You can run and you can hide, but you will never escape me, as long as you live. I will always come for you."

Solemnly, he began to pace towards her, his arms both outstretched to seize her, and Allie began to scream. She was trapped. There was nowhere left to run.

"Allie! ALLIE!" the Doctor shouted. "Take my hand!"

Somehow, despite her crippling paralysis, she managed to turn her head away from the advancing golem to look at the television set. The black and white image was shimmering, as if it was made of water. As she watched, an arm in a royal blue sleeve emerged from the luminous surface. Dizzily, she realised the Doctor was extending his hand to her, right through the television screen.

"Don't do it!" her father shrieked from somewhere behind her. "Don't touch him!"

And all the time, Charlie's footsteps were coming closer and closer, shaking the room like an earthquake.

"Allie, if you ever trusted me, take my hand NOW!" the Doctor demanded. "PLEASE!"

Sobbing with fear and exertion, she gathered together every scrap of her will. Forcing her hand to move, she reached out and grabbed his. _I trust you, Travelling Man. _His fingers closed firmly over hers, she heard the sound of rushing wind and Charlie's voice howling, and then everything went black.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author's Note: Hello, folks. Sorry for the delay in posting this, but I've been learning to role-play on another site, which has been heaps of fun, but has been taking up a bit of my time over the last couple of weeks.**_

_**Thanks very much to all the lovely people who assured me that the previous chapter was not too surreal, which was a huge relief. So big hugs to: MayFairy, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, Aietradaea, MountainLord-92, Drama-Queen's-Ramblings, Dragoneisha, Vincenth, Son of Whitebeard, RandomCitizen, Otaku-Neku (x 2), Scholar of Imagination, skidney, Darling-Stardusted-Traveller, RedPenWriter13, AVENGERS-girl-ASSEMBLE, The Yoshinator, LittleCatZ, XxCupcake-AssassinXX, TheWickedHeart, Slyork1991, Iris, mericat, Aries Felgate, KatietheBaka, Still Life Fantasy, Imorgen, BrOnZe-N-SilVeR, Crimson Delight and Theta'sWorstNightmare.**_

_**And heeeere's the next chapter...**_

* * *

**- Chapter Fifteen -**

Before the Doctor could react quickly enough to stop her, Allie walked as far as the middle of the huge room, where she stopped and stood completely motionless. There was nothing surrounding her except complete emptiness, but something about the space made the Time Lord's skin prickle in warning.

Striding after her, he whirled her around and looked urgently into her face. Her grey eyes were glazed and unseeing. He shook her slightly, calling her name.

"Doctor?" she answered, her voice rather alarmed but otherwise normal. He breathed a sigh of thankfulness. Her eyes still weren't focusing, but her responsiveness had to be a good sign. However the relief was short-lived, since almost immediately, she continued, "Doctor, what's happening? Where are you?"

He tightened his grip on her arms. "Allie, I'm right here. I've got you!"

"Doctor? Is that you?" The words were sharp, urgent, as though she was frightened.

"Yes, yes, it's me," he said eagerly. But her eyes were still far away and he got the strong impression that she not only couldn't see him, but that she wasn't even remotely conscious of his presence. "Allie?"

A mocking chuckle sounded from out of the darkness. Still holding Allie, the Doctor spun around, warily searching the dimness for signs of life. There was a slight stir of movement as someone stepped forward out of the shadows. The Doctor stared in utter shock, feeling as if he had been brutally punched in the stomach.

The newcomer had neatly cut brown hair and was dressed in an immaculately tailored black suit. His thin, handsome face was stretched in a familiar taunting grin.

"She can't hear you, you know," he said with malicious satisfaction. "You've already lost her, just like you lost all the others."

"_Master!_" the Doctor gasped. "No, that's not possible. You're _dead._ I burned your body myself. You can't be real."

"Of course I'm not real, you idiot!" the Master sneered. "Doesn't mean I can't hurt you though. Don't you get it? I'm from inside your head. I'm part of your _guilt_. Because I was the first."

"The first?" the Doctor repeated. "The first _what_?"

"The first friend that you betrayed. The first one you left behind." The Master's whiskey-coloured eyes were hard and bitter, just as the Doctor remembered them from the year he had spent aboard the _Valiant_. "You remember that, don't you, Doctor? You remember leaving me behind on Gallifrey, running away and leaving me to the mercy of the drums? I was your _best friend_! And you abandoned me."

"No, I tried to help you. I _tried_..."

The Master threw back his head and laughed. "You keep telling yourself that, Doctor. The guilt inside you says otherwise. Why else would I be here now? You so desperately don't want me to be dead, because you know that what happened to me was _your fault!_"

_A nightmare_, the Doctor thought frantically, shaking his head as if to clear it. _That's all this is. A stupid illusion._

Within the circle of his arm, Allie was murmuring fretfully, like a child talking in her sleep. "Wake up! WAKE UP!"

The Doctor gritted his teeth, trying to force his mind back past the illusion and back to reality. Somehow he had to get them both out of here, before Allie lost her grip on her sanity.

"I don't have to accept what you're saying," he flung at the Master. "I deny your existence. You're not real."

The Master shrugged. "Accept, don't accept, it's all the same to me. I'm only the narrator in this little drama anyway. There are plenty of other stories to tell. I know...why don't you think of me as the Ghost of Christmas Future? That might be fun. Let me see now...where to start..."

He waved his hand and suddenly the two Time Lords were standing side-by-side in a small, untidy bedroom with a narrow, single bed. Discarded clothes were scattered around the room and a dressing table was scattered with cosmetics, jewellery and fashion magazines. A small bedside table was piled high with travel books on Egypt, South America and China. Allie had vanished altogether, as if she had never existed.

The Doctor turned angrily on the Master, but before he could speak, the door flew open, and a woman with dishevelled red hair entered. Her face was pale and tight with despair.

At the sight of her, the Doctor's hearts lurched in dismay.

"Ah, Donna Noble," the Master said. "Poor Donna. Still living at home with her nagging mother and her senile grandfather. No boyfriend or anyone to care for. Stuck in her dead-end temping job, surrounded by her inane, narrow-minded friends. Trying to scrape together enough money for a tedious week in Brighton during the summer. No hope, nothing to look forward to. Is it any wonder she's decided to take the only escape route left to her?"

Tears streaming down her face, Donna sat on her bed and reached for a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

"No! _Donna, don't!_" the Doctor shouted, stepping forward in horror, his hand outstretched to stop her.

"Oh, don't bother, Doctor," the Master mocked. "She can't see us or hear us. We're just observers here."

Helplessly, the Doctor watched as Donna shook out a handful of pills and swallowed them, before lying down on the bed and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"This isn't real!" the Doctor said through his teeth. "Donna would never give up. She would _never_ harm herself!"

"Of course she never would," the Master agreed. "Before she met you. When you erased her memory of you, you left a big gaping hole behind that she can't fill, no matter what she does. She's incomplete and it hurts and she doesn't know why. So she's dealing with it the only way she can. Tomorrow morning, Granddad Wilf will find her, and it will break his poor old heart."

He waved his hand again and the scene dissolved. "Still, if you don't like that one, there's plenty more. How about this?"

Glancing around, the Doctor realised they were standing in a padded cell, about ten feet from front to back, and about eight feet wide. A dark-haired figure wearing a straight-jacket was hunched against the wall, rhythmically rocking back and forth and moaning incoherently.

"Handsome Jack," the Master announced spitefully. "Bit of a come down for him really, but there's only so many times you can get dragged back from the dead without it sending you completely bonkers. I should know. Captain Freak here went nuts and started shooting people, so they locked him up and threw away the key. It's the Psychiatric Wing of Broadfell Hospital. Same place they put my wife, Lucy. Funny how things happen, isn't it?"

The Doctor couldn't help clenching his fists at the pitiful, broken thing his old friend had been reduced to. But, with a supreme effort, he forced himself to remain silent, refusing to acknowledge or participate in the visions he was being shown, knowing that only his belief made them real.

"Nothing to say, Doctor?" the Master taunted. "No? Nothing at all? That's a surprise – normally I can't shut you up. Well, I suppose we'd better move on to our next stop then. Time waits for no man, as they say."

The padded cell swirled and disappeared, and the next minute, they were standing on a building roof-top under a hot sun. The Doctor blinked against the glare, trying to work out where they were this time.

"Over there," the Master said, pointing helpfully.

Following the line of his finger, the Doctor saw a slim, feminine figure, dressed in a black military-style uniform, lying flat on her stomach on the concrete ground, staring down over the edge of the building. In her hands was a high-powered rifle, with telescopic sights attached, resting on a small tripod.

"Martha Jones," the Master continued. "Remember her? She was training to be a doctor when you first found her. But _you_ turned her into a soldier. Because of her association with you, she started working for UNIT. Now she's a very highly-trained assassin. A killer instead of a healer. Right now, she's waiting for the Prime Minister of Pakistan."

While he was speaking, Martha's finger tightened on the trigger and she fired a single shot. "Oops, there he is," the Master grinned, as screams rose up from the streets below and the Doctor flinched. "Or should I say, there he _was_."

Swiftly and efficiently, Martha began disassembling the weapon, stowing the pieces safely in her tote bag. The Doctor felt sick inside as he saw her clinical, detached expression, so different from the vibrant, enthusiastic girl he had once travelled with.

_This isn't real, _he told himself again, concentrating on rejecting the pain and grief welling up inside him. _Martha would never become a killer. She never would._

"Of course, she's convinced herself that she's acting for the greater good," the Master shrugged, as Martha activated a teleport device and vanished from the rooftop. "But that's what we all tell ourselves in the beginning, isn't it?"

The scene faded out again, and the air was suddenly full of angry shouting.

"Ah, the sweet sounds of domestic bliss," the Master remarked in an amused voice, as the outlines of a kitchen morphed in around them. Then, as a glass soared past his ear and shattered against the wall, he winced and added, "Well, perhaps not."

The Doctor stared at the coalescing image of a kitchen table, a terrible coldness creeping through his body. A woman was sitting there, a half empty bottle of whiskey in front of her. Her unkempt hair had once been coloured platinum, but obviously had not been touched up in some time, since long dark roots were creeping through the blonde. Her face had once been pretty, but now looked sour and disillusioned and immeasurably older.

"Rose," the Doctor croaked.

"Yes, dear, sweet Rosie-Posie," the Master replied gleefully. "Oh, and look, that's you." He inclined his head to a figure standing near the door, a tall thin man with spiky brown hair, an exact replica of the Doctor. "Only, it's_ not,_ is it? Which is precisely the problem."

The man's shoulders were tight with misery, his face tired and worn. "Rose, please, I'm begging you - you need to stop drinking. You're killing yourself."

"You should know," the woman snapped back, his voice literally vibrating with hostility. "After all, you're the reason I drink in the first place! Get out. Just GET OUT! I can't stand to see your face!"

Quietly, his expression wracked with pain, the Doctor's double slipped out the door and closed it behind him. Rose got to her feet just long enough to grab another glass from the cupboard, before slumping back into her seat and pouring herself another generous slug of whiskey. There were tears slipping down her cheeks as she raised it to her lips and tossed it down her throat.

"Looks like that little plan didn't work out so well, huh?" the Master commented. "I mean, I guess the thought was there – provide her with a replacement you, and then you could just disappear into the sunset, and she wouldn't even notice the difference, right? She could live happily ever after, like a princess in a fairytale. WRONG! It wasn't him she loved, you idiot, it was_ you._ Oh, she tried at first. Did her best to settle down with him. But, little by little, things began to go wrong. The differences in him, the things that weren't _you_, started to chafe on her. Little by little, she began to despise him, for not being the man she fell in love with. And little by little, their relationship fell apart into disappointment and resentment and loathing. Now she drinks to forget that she ever met you." He pulled a face of mock sadness. "Such a pity, really. Maybe she could even have been _happy_, if you hadn't messed up her life."

"Shut up," the Doctor gritted out, his voice low and soft and dangerous.

"Oh, don't be like that, Doctor. There are a lot more I can show you, going back centuries. There's that cute little waitress - what was her name again? Astrid? - you had a pretty unique way of showing her the stars, didn't you, getting her killed and all? And what about Adric, remember him? KA-BOOM! And Jamie McCrimmon – the Red Coats hung him after the Time Lords returned him to his own time, did you know that? Very nasty way to go, so I understand. And what about your beloved granddaughter, Susan? You haven't seen her in a very, very long time. In fact, you never went back to see her at all. Not much of a grandfather, are you?"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" the Doctor roared, clapping his hands over his ears. "NONE OF THIS IS REAL. I DENY THIS REALITY. I DENY ALL OF IT!"

For the final time, his surroundings swirled, and Rose vanished away. Once again, he was standing in the large circular room on board the city-ship, with Allie held securely in his arms.

The Master still faced him. But now he was not alone. Everywhere he looked, the Doctor saw the familiar, beloved faces of his old companions, dozens of them, all of them full of hate and pain and blame, crowding closer and closer, a myriad of well-remembered voices calling his name. The Doctor shifted back and forth like a trapped animal, but the menacing apparitions were all around him, in an ever-tightening circle.

"Well, that was a fun little trip, wasn't it?" the Master asked sarcastically. "But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. The longer you're in this room, Doctor, the more your mental barriers are weakening. You won't be able to keep us out for much longer. The door's over that way." He pointed to the far side of the room, the opposite wall to the one where the Doctor and Allie had entered. There was a faint swishing noise, and a door slid invitingly open. "To reach it, you need to get through us. You need to wade through all your guilt and all your pain, reliving all the terrible things you've done in your life. The game is simple. If you reach it, you win. If you don't...well, I'm sure you can imagine what will happen if you don't. As for _her_..." - he looked disparagingly at Allie - "...you may as well forget her, she's already dead. Like I said, you can't save her."

"That's what you think!" the Doctor growled. "You always were too over-confident, Master. That's why you always lose."

Fighting for control of his own mind, he turned his back on the Master, spun Allie around to face him and cupped her cheeks with his hands, bringing her forehead down to meet his. "Allie! Can you hear me? ALLIE!"

"Doctor!" she called wildly. Her eyes still empty and blank, but somewhere in there, he sensed she was still fighting back. "Doctor, it's Allie. I'm here. I'm HERE!"

By concentrating hard, he was just managing to keep his own hallucinations at bay. But Allie was only human, she didn't have a Gallifreyan mind. If he didn't get her out of here soon, her own fear would kill her. Without wasting any more time, he summoned his psychic ability and thrust his mind brutally into hers, too urgent to be subtle, penetrating the thick cobweb-like visions that had wrapped their way around her brain. It wasn't difficult. Her consciousness was wide open and completely defenceless, as guileless as a child. He could see her, as if from a long way off. In the virtual reality of her dream-state, she was standing in an old-fashioned living room, staring frantically at a door behind her. Someone was screaming and the floor was shaking, as if giant footsteps were approaching. An older man he didn't know was cowering on the floor and giggling.

"Doctor!" Allie screamed. "It's the Gruffalo. The Gruffalo's coming for me!"

The Doctor had totally no idea what a Gruffalo was, but the fear in her voice was absolute, and he knew that whatever was coming couldn't be good. He tried to push closer, but found that he was prevented, as if by an invisible barrier. This was Allie's dream. To break its hold on her, she needed to close the distance between them herself.

"Silly little Allie, doesn't she know?" the man on the floor smirked in a mocking sing-song tone that made the Doctor want to punch him. "There's no such thing as a Gruffalo".

The shuddering footsteps beyond the door drew nearer and nearer.

"Allie, listen to me, you have to look away from that door!" the Doctor commanded, projecting his mental voice towards her. "Look away from the door and look at me!"

But the blonde girl seemed to be paralysed by her own terror and she didn't respond. The man on the floor was giggling insanely now, and then there was an enormous crash, as the door exploded inwards. A huge figure filled the gap and Allie screamed. To the Doctor's dismay, he recognised the terracotta golem they had so recently defeated.

_Of course_, he thought grimly, _the incident with Charlie is so fresh in her mind, he would have to be her greatest nightmare. _

"Hello, Allison Castiel," the golem said in his deep, ponderous voice. "I have come back from the dead for you. You can run and you can hide, but you will never escape me, as long as you live. I will always come for you."

In the background, the Doctor could hear the voices of his old companions, calling his name over and over again, like waves crashing against the ocean shore, trying to drag him back. Desperately, he began muttering mathematical formulae to himself, trying to screen out the illusions and to keep himself focused on what he was doing.

"Allie!" he shouted, mentally extending his arm towards her. "ALLIE! Take my hand!"

She turned towards him, but still didn't move, too frightened even to scream, as the shadow of the approaching golem fell over her.

"Don't do it!" the man on the floor moaned. "Don't touch him!"

Charlie was nearly close enough to seize Allie now. If he succeeded, the Doctor guessed the dream would end, her heart would stop beating, and he would be helpless to keep her from dying.

"Allie, if you ever trusted me, take my hand NOW!" he cried, savagely hurling his mind against the invisible barrier holding him back.

Just as Charlie reached her, she surged forward and their fingers met.

_I trust you, Travelling Man..._

Her thought came to him clearly through their psychic connection as, with a powerful yank, he pulled them both free of her nightmare.

* * *

This time, when Allie's eyes opened and looked directly into his, the Doctor could see they were alert and aware again, completely cognisant of her surroundings.

"Doctor!" she exclaimed, relieved tears trickling down her face, her hands clutching convulsively at his arms. "Oh, thank God, you're real! Thank God, I'm back! I was so scared!"

"It's all right," he said soothingly, folding her into a hug, but careful to maintain his psychic link with her, still shielding her mind with his own. "Everything's going to be fine now, Allie. But you have to keep listening to me, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"Tell me, what can you see around you?"

Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from his and glanced around, her gaze passing right through the Master and the crowd of ex-companions, as if they weren't even there. Which, of course, for her they weren't. This was his nightmare, and his alone.

"Nothing," she responded. "Nothing at all, just a big empty room."

"Oh, very well done, Doctor," the Master approved, clapping his hands in appreciation. "Almost impressive, even. But ultimately futile. We both know the only reason she isn't being affected any longer is because you're shielding her inferior little mind. And you can't simultaneously shield both of you long enough to reach the door. So what do you intend to do?"

Ignoring him, the Doctor kept his attention focused on Allie. Perspiration trickled down the back of his neck. It wasn't easy for a Time Lord to maintain a prolonged psychic connection with a human mind. The strain of protecting them both from the terrible visions was already wearing him down and it was all he could do to speak. "Good. That's good, Allie. Because that's all it is. A big empty room. It can't hurt you. Now, can you see the door on the other side? It's wide open."

"Yes, I see it."

"When I say 'Run!', I want you to run towards it as fast as you can, without stopping for anything, until you're safely on the other side. Can you do that for me?"

Her eyes widened in alarm. "What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you," he lied. "But you can't wait for me. You just run, all right? That's an order."

She bit her lip, but eventually agreed. "All right."

The Master laughed loudly, the insane sound escalating malevolently around the room.

"It's not going to work, Doctor," he jeered. "You're both going to die!"

All around, the haunting circle of apparitions grew tighter, the voices yammering the Doctor's name louder and more demanding, tearing at his mind, and he realised his control was slipping.

Summoning all his remaining energy for a supreme effort, he shouted, "RUN! NOW!"

Blindly, Allie stumbled forward, picking up speed as she raced towards the door. She felt light, her consciousness empty of everything but his command to run. She was unaware that he had completely abandoned his own protection to concentrate on hers and was insulating her mind from the hallucinations with his own.

Vaguely, at the very limits of his strength, he saw her reach the exit and pass through it. As soon as she vanished, the door slid shut and seemed to shimmer, the outline of it merging with the wall, as if it had never been there at all, leaving him trapped inside.

"Oh, now _that_ was a big mistake, Doctor," the Master laughed. "The last one you'll ever make."

Surrounded by the nightmarish faces of the people he loved, he fell helplessly to his knees, as the army of spectres crowded forward, reaching greedy hands towards him, ready to tear him to pieces.


End file.
